


IMPETUS

by AltFire



Series: Between Two Points [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: C-Sec, Canon Characters Only Mentioned, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Destroy Ending, Detectives, Fantastic Racism, Graphic Description of Corpses, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M, Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltFire/pseuds/AltFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place five years after an alternate “Destroy” ending, Haven Mai is a small town detective from Earth who gains fame after solving a big case. He is recruited to join a disjointed and weak C-Sec to solve a series of murders committed against humans on the station, with help from his broody turian bodyguard, the first geth C-Sec Officer, and a fellow human officer.</p><p>(Originally written for NaNoWriMo 2014, currently undergoing a massive rewrite. Chapters will be uploaded as they are completed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> On "alternate 'Destroy' ending":
> 
> Okay so some of this will be made apparent in the fic, but I thought I should maybe explain myself a little up here. My headcanon is that the Catalyst was a filthy liar, that both Control and Synthesis were ploys to indoctrinate the entire galaxy at once and continue the cycle, and that Destroy really would destroy the Reapers + reaper tech (i.e. mass relays etc.) exclusively.
> 
> Shepard, though they will only be mentioned sparingly, was fully Paragon and did everything "right." All squadmates are alive, the geth and quarians are both alive, the genophage is cured, etc. They chose Destroy, for whatever reasons they may have had. Their gender, class, and LI are up to you.
> 
> Any questions or comments can go in the comment section below or my main blog @altfire. Thanks so much!
> 
> -Ray

God, there was so much _red_.

Haven had never been a fan of that color, of the idea of blood and the sense of danger, of violence and fire and hatred. Now, of course, all he could think of when he saw red was that- that _laser,_ he supposed, though it seemed almost ludicrous that he would be terrified of a beam of light. But afraid he was, staring dumbstruck at the vidscreen in front of him whilst the gargantuan machines came down and began to tear apart everything Haven had ever known. He could already hear a girl crying down the hall and people shouting, throwing belongings into bags and boxes and arranging rides home. Already his omni-tool was lit up and flashing bright, messages from his sister and his parents and his friends coming in as they heard the news and-

"Haven!"

"I- Ben, are you-" He spun away from the common room's big screen just in time for Ben to tackle him, throwing his arms around his neck and knocking his glasses out of place.

"I'm fine," Ben said, but his green eyes were wide and scared. "Babe, did you see?"

Haven nodded dumbly, gesturing vaguely at the vidscreen. "I- London, yeah." He settled his hands on his boyfriend's waist, more protective than tender. "What do you want to do?"

"I need to see my family," Ben said automatically. "I- I need to get on the first ship out to the Verge. I need to go home."

Something in Haven twisted up unpleasantly. Of course Ben would need to go home. So should- so should he.

At the look on Haven's face, Ben quickly added, "You can come with me, though! My parents would be cool with it, and we could-"

"No, I- I should probably head home, too," Haven said, and Ben looked about as scared as Haven felt. "I- Maybe I can convince them to get off-planet. Or I can say goodbye, at the very least."

"You need to get off Earth, babe," Ben said gently, trying for tender but closer to desperate. Around them the dorm was in chaos while their fellow students arranged rides and contacted family and collected all their things. "I know- I know you haven't ever been off-planet, and Elysium is pretty cold, but I-"

"Ben, I'll be fine," Haven reassured, and forced a smile. He moved a hand to smooth gently over one of Ben's high, dark cheekbones. They took a deep breath in unison, and that made Haven's plastic smile feel a little more real. "You go home. I'll- I'll message you. Do you want me to help you get your things?"

Tears sprung in Ben's eyes and his face contorted into something pained. "Haven, _please_ just come with me. I- If you d-die because you're still here-"

Haven cut him off with a sturdy kiss, a hand on either side of his face. When he pulled back, he pressed their foreheads together. "Darling, we'll be fine. Maybe I'll meet you on Elysium once I say goodbye to Sanctuary and my parents. Don't worry about me."

"I won't do anything _but_ worry about you if you stay here," Ben said, but he swallowed down his fear.  "I- I can get my things. And you need to go get yours. We'll, um. We can meet up here, in a half hour. And then we'll say goodbye. And then we'll leave. Okay?"

Haven smiled, kissed Ben once more, and nodded. "Of course. I'll see you in a half hour."

Smiling wetly back at him, Ben nodded once and turned around to run back to his dorm. Haven only paused for a second before doing the same.

"You heading home, Mai?"

Haven nodded, heading straight for his closet to pull out his suitcase. It was probably the oldest thing in the building, metal and cloth and plastic like something out of an old movie. It even had wheels on the bottom, and a finicky handle to drag it by. He threw it open and laid it on the ground before starting for his nice hung-up clothes.

"You don't think you should probably get off planet instead?" His roommate, Keshawn, was laid out on his own bed, doing something weird with his biotics that was making Haven's hair stand up from across the room. Probably practicing his singularity, if the golf-ball sized black hole hovering in the middle of the room was anything to go by.

"That's the long term plan, yes," Haven said, partly distracted. Keshawn threw a pen into his singularity and it caught, floating lazily around the dense sphere of mass effect energy. Or whatever. Haven had never really, uh, _got_ biotics. He was more of a tech guy, like Ben. "But I have to say goodbye, don't I?"

Keshawn snorted. He balled up a piece of paper and it joined the pen in anti-gravity. "Dude, if you take your sweet time, there's not gonna _be_ a 'long term,'" he said. "What, did Ben not invite you to Elysium?"

"He did." Haven moved to the short stack of drawers and started taking armfuls of folded laundry and shoving them into his suitcase. "But I really need to see mom and dad and Sanctuary." He paused, sat up. "What about you? You don't seem eager to get out of here."

"I have a cousin on the Citadel," Keshawn said, smugly. "He's already said I could come stay with him."

"No family here on Earth?"

"Already sent them a message, but they're in Charleston. The Reapers have already touched down there. I thought it's best not to bother them."

Haven shivered. "Are they okay? Aren't you worried?"

"If I was any less in control right now, I'd be screaming, man," Keshawn said, and it was obvious he didn't want to say any more on the matter. "You can come with me, if colony life ain't for you. You've never been off Earth, right?"

"No, I haven't, but I can't leave yet." His omni-tool lit up again, and he was reminded that he had messages.

> _SUBJECT: Reapers_
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _Are you alright??? We saw them on the vidscreen, mom and dad are worried sick. Please respond!_  
>  _Sanctuary_  
> 
> 
> _-_
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _Respond! Look at your damn omni-tool!!!  
>  _ _Sanctuary_
> 
> -
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _IF YOU'RE DEAD I'M GOING TO BE SO MAD. Also mom is crying. Do you see what you do.  
>  _ _Sanctuary_
> 
> -
> 
> _Haven,  
>  _ _I knew this would happen if you left home. I told you that it was unsafe. I told you!!  
>  _ _Sanctuary_

Haven flushed. Oops.

> _SUBJECT: RE: Reapers_
> 
> _Ary,_  
>  _I'm fine! I'm packing right now, I'll be home soon. I was distracted saying goodbye to Benjamin and packing. Are you guys alright?  
>  _ _Haven_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _SUBJECT: RE: RE: Reapers_
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _Oh thank goodness. I was about to have a heart attack.  
>  _ _We're fine, just scared. Be home soon.  
>  _ _Sanctuary_

"Well, if you decide that death by laser doesn't sound fun anymore, you know how to contact me." Keshawn dropped the singularity and and the pen, paper, and memory drive he'd tossed into the field whilst Haven had been busy messaging his sister clattered to the ground all at once. "We'd still be roomies, ha."

Haven smirked and sat back to look around the room for anything else he needed. "Sorry, man, but you're definitely not my first choice. If I get off this rock, I'm goin' after Ben."

"That's gay."

"That's the point."

Keshawn snorted. "I guess it is."

In between bantering with Keshawn and digging through his desk for the essentials (drone kits, several datapads, virtual textbooks, his portable terminal, an old paper notebook and a heavy steel pen, a spare omni-tool, and his glasses case and repair kit), he used up an entire half hour. Through the thin floor, Haven could hear people talking and yelling still, beds and desks knocking against the walls in people's rush to get their stuff and leave. Keshawn didn't move, but Haven supposed he wouldn't be doing nothing if he thought he should be doing something. Another singularity, this one the size of a basketball, came to be in the center of the room. Haven had to catch his suitcase to keep it from flipping over, his toothbrush floating out delicately only to be snatched back out of the air.

"You're getting better at that," Haven said with an edge of annoyance. "If only you would put the same effort into, I dunno, not bothering me."

"I mean, I _could,_ but what fun would that be?" Haven rolled his eyes and zipped up his suitcase, putting it against the wall and outside of the singularity's range. Another moment later, and it dissolved.

"If I had a drone up all the time, you'd be upset," he pointed out.

"Because it likes to set my shit on fire!"

"Haven, are you done?" Ben had appeared in the doorway, his own luggage hovering behind him.

"Yeah, just about," he said, sweeping his gaze around the room one last time for anything he'd forgotten. There was bigger, less essential stuff - his bedding, a map of the galaxy with all the mass relays and their connections, his full-sized private terminal - that he was going to have to leave behind if he wanted to leave quickly, but it wasn't anything he couldn't live without or purchase anew. "And you?"

Ben nodded. "Yeah, I'm- Keshawn, what are you doing?"

The biotic shrugged. "Chillin'."

"I-" Ben's brow furrowed. "Is that what you're _supposed_ to be doing?"

Keshawn shrugged again. "No. But my flight to the Citadel is a week from now anyway, so there's no need to rush."

"Except for the giant killer machines that just touched down in every major population center on the planet!" Ben threw his arm up toward the window, as though looking outside would prove his point. There weren't any Reapers in sight. Apparently Tuscaloosa didn't count as a major population center.

"At least I'm getting off planet! Haven's stayin' here, probably gonna try to talk the Reapers down." He snorted at his own joke. Haven glared.

"I'm getting off planet," he said, firmly. "I just have things to attend to, first."

"The second you see your family, you're gonna lose that reserve," Keshawn said.

"No, I'm not!"

Ben didn’t look like he believed him. "Just a couple months ago you said you were gonna take that job on that water world in Artemis Tau, but then you went home for vacation and now-"

"I wanted to focus on my studies," Haven said, but he flushed - Ben was right. They both were. He'd been endlessly excited to go to Proteus, put his engineering to work helping the scientists there study the possibility of underwater colonies, but his family had put a damper on that as soon as he told them. They were firmly Terra Firma, of the opinion that humanity should have destroyed the Charon relay as soon as they'd found it, and big fans of keeping humanity as isolated as possible. Every chance Haven had to get off planet was discouraged and disparaged until he meekly acquiesced to staying earthbound. "Besides, I don't want to do engineering anyway, I'm majoring in crimino-"

"What I'm saying is you need to get off planet!" Ben interrupted, frustration evident. "Send Sanctuary a message from the ship, I don't care, we all need to be gone!"

"I invited him to the Citadel with me," Keshawn added."Turned me down."

"I'm coming to Elysium, Ben, I promise," Haven said. "But I'm saying goodbye in person, okay? I've already made up my mind. That's my plan."

"So was Artemis Tau," Ben grumbled, then sighed. "Fine. Do you have a ride?" Haven shook his head, and Ben sighed again. "Call a cab, then. My aunt is picking me up in two hours."

"What do you suppose we do while we wait?" Haven asked, already arranging a ride on his omni-tool. Right as he finished, Ben put a hand on his chest and drew it up around his neck. Keshawn made a retching noise.

"My roommates are already gone," Ben said, and his frustration seemed to have melted away as he leaned close to Haven. "I can think of a couple ways to waste time."

"Oh my _god,_ get out!" Keshawn groaned, and hand in hand, Haven and Ben did just that.

\--

"Haven!"

Haven didn't have time to get a foot in the door before he was being dragged inside by his collar, Sanctuary being rough as ever with her little brother. She slammed the door shut behind him as the skycab flew off, out of place among the streetcars and paved roads of Haven's Terra Firma hometown. Though he hadn't realized it until he was in high school and got his first extranet connection, their little neighborhood looked like something straight out of the early to mid 21st century, cars powered by gasoline. Haven's poor vision was an obvious sign of this upbringing - his family didn't believe in gene therapy. Which is why he wore glasses.

"Ary, I'm fine," he said, untangling himself from her while she tried to hug him. He left his suitcase by the door and made his way to the living room, where his parents waited.

They scarcely had time to catch up before they heard it.

Haven had heard a Reaper horn on TV just earlier that day, when the news had shown the synthetics touching down. It hadn't been the first time he'd heard it, of course. Reapers were on the news constantly, video footage of the fall of Khar'shan and other planets where they touched down, the unearthly hum-buzz of something more ancient than anyone on Earth could imagine. Haven had seen the scarlet beams and been frozen in fear, in helplessness knowing that they would get to Earth eventually, they had to, it was only a matter of time.

Hearing it for real was so much worse.

Without any filtering on, no armor or helmet or protection, he slammed his hands over his ears and bent double, cringing at the sheer volume. Sanctuary screamed while she and their parents followed Haven's lead. As soon as it started it was over, but then there was a distant crash and crunch, people screaming and old combustion engines roaring to life, barely audible over the ringing in Haven's ears. He sprinted for the front room, passing his suitcase in the hall to look out the double-wide front window.

Outside a Reaper had touched down. It was a mile away, maybe, massive and black and setting things ablaze at random, it seemed. The whole world seemed to have gone black and white, the evening sky going dark with smoke and ash, punctuated by roars of the horn and beams of light, red streaks of sunset scarcely visible through the artificial clouds.

"What are we going to do?" Sanctuary was at his back in an instant, eyes wide and staring at the monster in the distance. Watching its- it's feet? Were they feet? The whole thing looked like a bug or an alien hand, eerie and _wrong._ Haven shook his head.

"I don't-" His hands were shaking, breath coming quick. "I- I-"

"I'm calling the police!" their mother announced, scurrying to the kitchen to use the modified landline.

Haven couldn't move, staring at the Reaper out the window. All he could think was that he should have gone with Ben, he could be on a ship right now, getting away and going- but then, his family would be trapped-

"Haven, Sanctuary, away from the window!" their father boomed, having not even gotten up from the sofa. Haven couldn't move, but Sanctuary grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

"What are we going to do?" Sanctuary asked again, this time directed at their father. Haven dropped himself in an armchair, putting his face in his hands and trying to control his breathing.

"Live," their father said with certainty. He didn't look the slightest bit perturbed by the Reaper threat. Mostly just annoyed. "There's a bunker under the high school. We'll probably go hide from the aliens there." He huffed, shaking his head. "What have I always said? This is what happens when humans leave Earth! They bring death and destruction back with them!"

Haven forced himself to sit up while Sanctuary nodded her agreement. "If we didn't ever leave, the Reapers probably wouldn't know we were here!"

"Are you- are you joking?" Haven asked, and couldn't help the look he gave her. He- sometimes he forgot how _stupid_ his family was when it came to this kind of thing. She glared at him. "Oh, wow, okay. Wow. I need a minute to process that."

"Oh, shut up, Haven," she sneered, and there was the real Sanctuary. Great. "If we never revealed our location to the aliens-"

"They would still know where we are! The Reapers are more ancient than all of humanity, probably, and more advanced than we can dream! Plus, the Charon relay is _in our system,_ we're not hard to find!" He sighed. "Do you guys take pride in being insanely ignorant?"

"Now you listen here, young man-"

"The Alliance are sending marines to escort us to the bunker," their mother called from the kitchen, hanging the phone on the wall noisily and coming back into the living room. "We need to get our things. Quan, get up and go get the suitcases-"

"I can't go to the bunker, I'm going to Elysium!" he burst out. All his family froze and stared at him.

"Why?" His mother's eyes welled up already, but that meant almost nothing. She cried over everything.

"I-"

"That's where his boyfriend's from, right?" Sanctuary said, glaring at him. "I knew that colony kid was a bad influence, I-"

"You liked Ben!"

"That's not the point!" their father shouted. "Haven Mai, you are staying here on Earth. You are coming to that bunker with the rest of us and you will stay there until it is safe, and then you will go back to school and-"

"Dad, I'm twenty-one! I'm- I'm grown and in college and I don't want to die having never left Earth!" There was a roar of the Reaper horn but it was louder than before - closer. Haven's stomach clenched and he felt sick, flushed. "You can't tell me what to do anymore!"

"So you're going to abandon your family in the middle of a war?" Sanctuary hissed. "That's what this is - this isn't just Commander Shepard fighting aliens a hundred systems away! The Reapers are _here!"_

"I- Sanctuary, I know, but I-" Reaper horn. That explosion sounded so close, Haven imagined he could feel the heat on the back of his neck. He clenched his teeth. "I need to leave. I- I only came to say goodbye, just in case-" He shook his head. "I'm leaving."

"Your ship will be shot down before you even leave the atmosphere, Haven," his father said, stern. "I've seen three already on the news."

Haven's heart skipped a beat. _What if Ben-?_ He shook his head. "I- no, I have to leave, I have to call-"

 _"No."_ And for some reason that denial was enough, combined with the loudest sounding of the horn yet far. Haven slumped his shoulders in and nodded. He let himself be led to the living room and sat back in his chair. The moment the attention was off him, he pulled up his omni-tool.

> _SUBJECT: Sorry_
> 
> _Ben,_  
>  _It's too dangerous right now. There's a Reaper nearby and there are marines evacuating the town. I'd try to get a ride, but Dad says that there are ships being shot down before they can leave the atmosphere. Are you okay?  
>  _ _Haven_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _SUBJECT: RE: Sorry_
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _I knew this would happen!! I am very upset with you!!!! But mostly just worried!!!!! Try to stay safe!!!!!!  
>  _ _Benjamin_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _SUBJECT: RE: RE: Sorry_
> 
> _Ben,_  
>  _We're leaving the house now. I'll message you later, the officer says we can't use omni-tools even from the bunker. The Reapers can detect and track all signals. I should have listened to you, but my family needs me here. Not that I have much choice._  
>  _Sorry. I love you.  
>  _ _Haven_
> 
> _-_
> 
> _SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: Sorry_
> 
> _Haven,  
>  _ _Message me as soon as you can!!!!!!! I love you, too!!  
>  _ _Ben_

Haven spent the entirety of the war in that bunker, surrounded by his family and everyone he'd grown up with. Almost a year underground, in uncomfortable bunks and watched by Alliance marines that no one in town had ever supported or even wished to, now that they were the only reason the townspeople were alive. A year full of terror and ignorant remarks, of the sounds of war overhead. They were allowed to leave, but every shriek of a banshee or roar of a brute or howl of a Reaper convinced Haven that to leave was to die. One entire party of people that had gone up for fresh air and to stretch their legs never came back, and they only learned of their fate from a frantic marine, uniform singed and covered head to toe in blood and oil and filth.

It was a year before he had the chance to message Ben back. A whole year of silence on both ends, and after hearing news of a Reaper landing on Elysium- well.

Haven never responded.


	2. Welcome

The terminal was crowded and dense with bodies, people of all species with barely enough standing room for all of them waiting for the flight. Atlanta Intergalactic Spaceport was one of the most busy on Earth aside from Dubai and Vancouver and the obvious choice for most everyone who was trapped this far south on the North American continent. Early August and three and a half hours into the terran afternoon, the humid heat rose off the pavement in waves, throwing the old brick and concrete and the newer glass and treated steel  extensions into a dreamlike haze. Once called the Atlanta International Airport, before it was converted into a spaceport some twenty years ago, the thing was a Frankenstein-esque monster of old and new, as artfully done as possible. It was an ugly union of ugly 21st century architecture and the almost too-modern style of the current century, obviously influenced by asari and turian aesthetics but with that rough-hewn human edge. It looked more the oeuvre of a metal-working machine more than that of a living draftsman.

"Here it is, Atlanta Intergalactic," the cabbie said, monotone as he read off the toll. Haven nodded, transferring the credits quickly with his omni-tool.

"Thanks so much," Haven said as they touched down, chest tight and hands shaking slightly. He took a deep breath. He was allowed to be nervous. That wasn't weird.

The top of the skycab lifted open  and Haven exited only a little awkwardly, wobbling after the long flight from his hometown to Atlanta. He caught himself one-handed on the warm silver paint of the skycar, nodded once at the look the cabbie gave him, and leant off. The cab took off without pause.

Haven wasn't alone about the entrance, people everywhere getting dropped off with their luggage or coming out to reunite with friends, families, or rental cars. He pulled his collar away from his neck, too-hot and kind of regretting his decision to wear an old fashioned business suit, already sweating. He took only a brief moment to look up at the entrance, partially covered, before rushing inside. He was glad he didn't have any luggage himself, having shipped it to his destination ahead of time.

"Hello, Detective Haven Mai!"

Haven startledwhen his omni-tool sprung to life and a small figure of a woman appeared, human and raceless, a transparent pink-orange that was easier to see in the artificial lighting indoors.

"I- Hello?"

"I am Virginia, virtual companion to the Atlanta International Spaceport!" She- um, _it_ smiled at him, sweet and vacant. "I will be guiding you through the process today. Your flight is at 4:45 to the Citadel, correct?" Its voice fluctuated strangely around the time and destination as though they had been copy-pasted into a template. They probably had been. Haven nodded.

"Uh, yeah," he said, a little flustered. He felt a little silly speaking to a VI, but she- _it,_ continued on, perky as ever.

In under an hour, Haven was nestled among the crowd of restless travelers, checking his ticket on his omni-tool for the hundredth time and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Around him people were talking, melding together into a cacophany of nonsense that was hard to figure out. Haven hummed lowly, trying to focus on one sound, tapping his fingers tunelessly against his thigh in rhythm with his bouncing. Nearby he could see and hear a quarian, a little louder than the crowd, talking to a group of curious humans about his Pilgrimage. Haven couldn't pick out any specifics, and soon he too was drowned out by the formless grumbling of the crowd.

"All passengers in the first two sections for the 4:45 to the Citadel, please make your way to the front," Virginia's voice rang out from the overhead speakers, and Haven forced himself to stop bouncing to wind his way through the crowd to the front. It wasn't hard - he was tall for a human, a hundred ninety-six centimeters tall and broad shouldered. Ignoring the eyes of everyone watching him pass, he gently forced himself forward, trying for agile and mostly succeeding, only stepping on a few toes. Once he was past the bulk of the group and in line, he could see out the huge back windows more clearly. The runway out back was huge and covered in ships from all over, giant commercial carriers like the one he was boarding, private planes and ships from all over the galaxy parked here out of necessity, still here from the war. It had been five years - most of the alien ships were gone, as well as the aliens. But not all of them. Clearly.

He couldn't focus too much on the other ships though, because most striking of all was the sight of a Reaper, a Destroyer (which was that smaller class, he had learned, 200 meters tall like the one that he had been so close to back at the beginning of the war). It laid on its side, massive and imposing, unmarred by time and any efforts to destroy or move it. The concrete around it was shattered for several meters and surrounded by short barricades. No ships dared get close, and Haven felt cold just looking at it.

"Hey, uh, excuse me? The line is moving."

Haven jumped when a gloved hand touched his shoulder and he looked back to look at who it was. It was that quarian, decked out in blue and silver with a mask dark and reflective like sunglasses. Haven looked back to the front and noticed several feet of empty space. He flushed and took the space.

"Sorry, I was-"

"Distracted. Yeah, I get it." The quarian nodded sympathetically. He looked out toward the Reaper, and sighed, the sound tinny and warped by his air filter. "It doesn't feel like five years."

The actual boarding process was novel and strange to Haven, led aboard and directed by a life-sized version of Virginia positioned in the entryway. Finding his seat wasn't difficult, and he was pleased to discover that the quarian would be sat by his side. In the row of seven seats, two at each side and three in the middle in a decidedly earthen airplane style, Haven was sat dead center and the quarian was to his right.

Actually, the whole cabin was very retro, faux-leather and multicolored cloth seats, plastic and white LED lights overhead, strangely patterned carpet and a smell like freshly cleaned oxygen, sterile and cold. The back of the seat in front of him was a flat plane from which a long screen was projected, currently displaying the date and time (in Earthen UTC -5 "Eastern" Time, Terran Coordinated Universal Time, and Galactic Standard Time), but upon inspection he could change it into a simulated window showing a view from the front of the ship toward the green on blue horizon, or watch a selection of entertainment programs and full-length vids, or surf the extranet.   For the half hour that Haven spent waiting for the rest of the passengers to board, he made good use of this, browsing the vid library and checking the galaxy map for their itinerary. It would be two mass relay jumps to get from the Local Cluster to the Serpent Nebula, using first the Charon Relay by Pluto, jumping to the Exodus Cluster, then taking the relay in the Utopia system all the way to Widow, and the Citadel. The flight was anticipated to take a full nine hours, depending on how far away the ship drifted between jumps.

"Please be seated, as the on-board safety presentation is about to begin." The screen changed to the AIS logo as Virginia's voice reverberated through the cabin. "Thank you for choosing Atlanta Intergalactic Spaceport! This is Virginia, wishing everyon a safe journey to the stars!"

The overhead lights dimmed and so did the screens, blacking out for a moment before fading into a video of an asari dressed like a hostess who went on to explain the complicated harness system that made up the seatbelts, the various safety procedures, where the various commodities were on the ship, and the protocol that must be followed for the mass relay jump. As the vid went on, Haven only grew more excited, leg bouncing on the ground and fingers tapping on the one armrest he'd managed to snag (the woman on his left pointedly had both of her arms on hers). Though he was still nervous to leave Earth for the first time, he was practicaly vibrating with excitement as the presentation ended and the ship began to lift off. Haven stared transfixed at his simulated window as the view changed, leaving the green trees and sweeping cityscape of the horizon behind to pure, solid blue, not a cloud in sight, then ever higher into the inky dark of space.

The first hour was magical, leaving the atmosphere then watching stars  drift by as they moved at over light speed toward the edge of the Sol system. The next three hours before Charon were far less exciting as the nervousness crept up on Haven. What would the jump be like? The asari in the vid had only described what they were to do in preparation for it - fasten the full harnesses of the seats, relax, turn off all vidscreens - but hadn't touched on how it would actually _feel_. Would it hurt? Would it just be strange? His hands shook, one gripping too-hard on the armrest and the other tapping ceaselessly on his knee.

"Hey, guy, are you okay?"

Haven jumped a little, declenching and turning to the quarian.

"Oh, I- um, yeah, I just-"

"First time?"

Haven nodded. "Yeah, I- yeah." He took a deep breath, sat up straight and tried to compose himself.

"I've been on ships since forever, but I guess you could'a guessed that," the quarian said with a strong Australian-sounding accent, a decision of Haven's translator that he wondered at. He extended a three-fingered hand. "Soro'Loss vas Yaerah."

Haven shook it. "Haven Mai."

"What business do you have on the Citadel, Haven?" Soro'Loss asked, moving to sit diagonally in his seat to focus glowing eyes on Haven.

"I was recruited by C-Sec," he replied. "I'm a PI and- It sounds like I’m bragging, but I just solved a pretty big case on Earth a little less than a year ago, so I was scouted out by Councilor Lehre to head the Investigations division on Bachjret Ward."

Soro'Loss didn't reply, and Haven imagined he might have raised his eyebrows, maybe impressed. "Impressive," he said at last, confirming Haven's suspicions. "That's- what case was it? I might have heard about it."

Haven shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, bringing a leg up to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. "Did you hear about the Geoffrey Balshaw case?"

Soro paused for a moment, thinking, then seemed to remember and nodded quickly. "With the red sand and the biotic kids, right?" He exhaled. "That was all over ANN. I'm not so surprised the Councilor thought you were right for the job. You saved those kids' lives."

Haven flushed at the genuine praise. "I- I did my best. I wish I _-" Could have saved them sooner._ He cut himself off, shook his head. "Nevermind, I, um." He coughed awkwardly. "What are you after, on the Citadel?"

Soro rolled a shoulder. "Work. I wanna get to Rannoch eventually, 'cause I've still never been, but four months travel time isn't ideal."

"It takes that long?"

Soro nodded. "Without the mass relays, it takes about that long at FTL to get there."

Haven furrowed his brow. "I thought the relays were working. I mean, we're about to use Charon, aren't we?"

"They have the relays up so you can get from the Citadel to Earth or Palaven or Sur'Kesh, but Rannoch isn't a priority." He exhaled, annoyed. "Though without the geth, we wouldn't be able to get the relays back together. They _are_ doing most of the labor out there putting the things back together, using some of the data they were able to get off the Reapers and the Citadel." He scoffed. "Without them, we'd probably all still be on Earth, and the Council won't let them get home!"

Haven nodded sympathetically. "That really isn't- that's not very fair." He paused. "I take it they're focusing on, what, Thessia and Tuchanka next?"

"Exactly, Haven." Soro snorted derisively. "The asari are self-absorbed, and everyone wants to get the krogan out of there as soon as possible, and all the off-world krogan want to get a piece of that genophage cure."

"I suppose," Haven said, a little uncomfortable with the quarian's tone, and changed the subject.

\--

Three hours later, Haven was anxious again.

"Jumping is not a big deal, Haven," Soro was saying, not for the first time with a hand comfortingly on Haven's shoulder. Three hours of nonstop conversation had proven that the two of them were actually pretty compatible as friends. Still, Haven ignored him. "You need to relax."

"Does it hurt?" Haven asked, hands clutching both hands rests. He'd taken the one on his left when that neighbor went to the restroom. She was still glaring at him while she worked on fastening her harness. Haven already had his up and probably a little too-tight, having done them the moment the sweet-voiced asari VI had come over the speakers and announced that they were ten minutes (Galactic Standard, which after a quick mental calculation was twelve Terran minutes) from Pluto.

Soro shook his head, gesturing with his other hand to emphasize the denial. "No, it doesn't hurt. It just feels like-" He paused for a long time and Haven shot him a 'totally not helping' look. Then he shrugged. "I dunno. It's not bad though, just strange."

"That's really helpful, Soro," Haven said, with a low sarcastic edge he didn't get very often. Soro shrugged and didn't reply. His stomach was twisted up and roiling hot and uncomfortable. He switched his screen on and turned to the simulated window.

The view outside took his breath away, broad swaths of blackness punctuated by pinpricks of light, great swirls of color that seemed impossible but there they were, bright and beautiful as they drifted by at speeds faster than light. Up ahead were the two massive shapes of Pluto, dark and cold, and Charon relay, gleaming and glowing blue and white. Upon looking closer Haven could make out a number of gateway stations, reflecting the relay's eezo core and blinking with their own lights.

They drew ever closer, the relay growing impossibly huge until it took up the whole of Haven's view, so bright the screen automatically dimmed. As one, all the screens on the ship blacked out. Haven gripped harder on the armrests, glancing down to make sure his harnesses were properly fastened.

The VI went over the procedures and precautions once more over the intercom, though Haven couldn't hear her- it over his heart pumping double time in his ears. _It's going to be fine._ He breathed deep, over and over.

"Please remain seated as we prepare to engage the relay in 100... 99..."

Haven forced his eyes shut as it counted down the last minute, then gasped as an almost unexplainable tightness around his entire self began, time and space seeming to condense hard and cold around him, suffocating and alien. For less than a fraction of a second he couldn't breathe, and then all the pressure was gone in a great catharsis. Haven sucked in a huge breath of air and at least one of the other passengers snickered. Everything in him seemed to unclench all at once and Haven deflated, every tense muscle relazing as he forced his hands to come up off the armrests to crack his knuckles, a force of habit. His left neighbor took her armrest back immediately because apparently she and Haven were both children. He let it go.

"That, uh..." he said, still a little breathless. "That wasn't so bad."

Soro snorted, then patted Haven's shoulder. "I told you so."

Haven elbowed him, but managed to smile in relief. "Okay. So, one more of those and we're at the Citadel. Great." He slumped in his seat. "Have you ever been to the Citadel, Soro?"

The quarian nodded. "I worked on Tayseri ward for a while rebuilding after that business with Saren and Sovereign and the geth," he said. "But after that Cerberus thing, I went back to the Fleet."

"How did you end up on Earth all this time?" Haven wasn't sure if he was digging too deep - most people he'd met didn't like talking about the war, and he knew this question could drag up dark memories. "I mean, if you want to tell me, you don't have-"

Soro waved him off. "It's fine." He settled back into his seat and unfastened the superfluous bits of his harness, leaving just his seatbelt. "I was working on one of the smaller ships with bigger guns, mostly just doing maintenance. Most of the civilians except for me and a couple other maintanence workers were moved onto a bigger lifeship to go to Rannoch, while we were shipped out to join the final force on Earth." His voice was low and he sounded a little far away, like he could see it now. "I- We were shot down pretty early on. It was terrible, all fire and screeching metal. We landed somewhere on- I think it was called Europe, my Earth geography isn't great. We were close enough to the conduit that the last thing I saw was that bright white beam, a hundred miles away, stretching up forever." He paused for a long time. "I was the only one of us who survived, and my suit was ruined. My mask was completely shattered and I thought- I was certain I wouldn't make it.

"But then I woke up. I was in an Earth hospital in- what was it called? Paris. The war had been over for half a year when I came to. I recovered in that hospital for a year, and then I started working. I've been working all over since then to get enough credits for this ticket, and a place to stay on the Citadel." He laughed a little dryly. "I _was_ going to wait until the relays to Rannoch were up, or even get a ticket for one of the lifeships going the long way, but I decided against it in the long run."

"That's incredible," Haven blurted out. "I- That you survived sounds almost impossible."

Soro snorted again. "I guess quarians aren't as fragile as everyone thinks, huh?" He could have sounded bitter, but Haven could hear his smile as he elbowed Haven in the side. "I'm just grateful I have a chance to see the homeworld. A lot of us didn't get that chance."

"I guess you're lucky, then."

Soro nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I guess I am."

\--

The Citadel was another grand spectacle, after hours of on-off napping and watching vids (including but not limited to a bizarre action-comedy about an asari Spectre going undercover as a human woman named "Sally") and talking to Soro. When the station came into view, sparkling in starlight and gleaming of its own accord, Haven reached over and shook Soro awake.

"Wha- Haven, what are you doing?" Annoyed. Oops.

"I- We're almost there!" he exclaimed, pointing at his screen. Soro groaned and leaned back against the seat.

"That's great, but I would have preferred you let me sleep until we were docked," he grumbled, but Haven ignored him. He sat up straighter in his seat, leg bouncing  while he stared out at the massive five-armed station, glowing orange and thrown into shadow by its star, Widow.

"But then you'd miss this view," Haven insisted, and from the tilt of his head he could tell Soro had rolled his eyes at him. "I can't even imagine being bored of the Citadel!"

"It's pretty from the outisde, yeah, but I've seen some of the dirtiest parts of the station. It's lost its charm." He snorted. "Though I'm impressed that it's out here in the first place. That thing was really messed up when it crashed."

Haven nodded. He'd seen it on ANN, back when they were reconstructing it, and when they finally lifted it off the ground. It only took three years to get it spaceworthy again. "Enough people wanted it back out there, I guess."

Soro snorted. "Yeah, I guess so." He paused, shaking his head. "It's a wonder what we can do when we all work together," he finally said. "I've never seen such a diverse group of people working together, though I've heard the- that Crucible thing the Alliance was working on had _rachni_ helping out, so."

Soro had been right about the hour long wait remaining, and Haven could feel his excitement heightening with every second he waited. He wasn't sure _exactly_ what he was supposed to do once he arrived, but he was hoping he'd figure it out. There was a series of heavy magnetic clanks as the ship was secured to the dock and Haven was bouncing in his seat like a child, much to the disdain of his human neighbor and the amusement of his quarian one.

"You're damn excitable, you know that?" Soro said. The cabin around them was abuzz with noise as people woke up and started reaching for their carry-on luggage or their friends, family, loved ones. Some people had already stood and unbuckled their seatbelts, and Haven followed their lead.

"I- Yeah, I get that sometimes," he said. "I mean- I'm in space! This is incredible! I'm, like. I'm overwhelmed, sorry, I just-"

Soro laughed, standing at Haven's side and clapping him on the shoulder. "It's alright, I understand." He pulled up his omni-tool and, after a moment, Haven's lit up. "I shared my data with you," he explained. "Hit me up if you ever wanna get drinks or something. That detective thing sounds exciting. Or if you ever need to know anything about the Citadel, I'm your guy."

Haven beamed, nodded. "I will, thank you." The VI came on overhead to announce that they were boarding the Citadel in dock D36 and Haven watched Soro'Loss turn and leave, waving once before disappearing into the crowd. Haven took a shallow breath and turned to do the same in the other corridor. While he walked, right as he was taking his first step onto the Citadel, his omni-tool lit up with a message.

 

> _SUBJECT: Welcome_
> 
> _Det. Mai:_  
>  _Ofc. Camnion will be picking you up from the dock. He's turian with green clan markings, kind of grumpy, in C-Sec armor._ _Hard to miss.  
>  __We'll see you on the Presidium._  
>  Capt. Arso Adjulius, Bachjret Ward C-Sec

Haven stood to the side to allow his fellow passengers to pass, scanning the crowd for anyone with that description. Even compared to the spaceport, Haven had never seen so many aliens in one place, though maybe he should just get used to the idea. Something about it made him giddy, especially combined with the view of the void and Widow and hundreds of ships docked and in motion through the windows behind him, and the view of the Presidium through the windows ahead of him. He began to weave through the colorful crowd, muttering pleasantries and still searching for- _there._

Officer Camnion was stood near the door in blue-black C-Sec armor, all dark brown plates and lighter hide underneath. The green on his face was stark against the darker backdrop, a straight line fron the top-most browplate down to his chin, a stripe from under his eyes all the way back across the lowest parts of his fringe, the tops and tips of his mandibles smoothly painted. His  posture looked grumpy, like the Captain had said, his arms crossed and one dramatic hip cocked. Haven let himself stare for a long time, gathering himself.

"Detective Camnion?" he asked as he approached, smiling. Camnion looked at him and his browplates shift upward as if surprised.

"Detective Mai," he said by way of confirmation, voice low and rumbling. Up close Haven notices more of the... paint? tattoos? uh, markings. There's two diagonal stripes running straight out from the top of his mouth on either side of the upside-down V of his mouth, and two segments of his nose-plates at the very top and in the middle were solid green, perpendicular to the dominant center line. Haven wondered at the intricacy of the markings - was clan Camnion a big deal? Did they mean anything at all? Camnion spoke again, pulling Haven from his thoughts. "The, uh. The Captain is waiting. Follow me to the skycar."

Haven nodded, and Camnion turned and started out the doors. While they walked, Haven noticed the big grey and black rifle mounted on the turian's back, with a small red symbol and a larger M8 on the side. Haven swallowed. He had seen a couple guns before, but not so close, and they'd always made him, uh, uncomfortable. Well, if he was going to work with police, he knew he probably had to get used to it. As long as he wasn't expected to shoot anything himself. He could practically feel the anxiety attack that would give him already. Yikes.

They stepped out onto the Presidium and at once, Haven is blinded by the bright lights. Inside it had been muted and dark, but the Presidium was in full simulated daylight, complete with a blue sky and clouds scrolling by infinitely. Haven looked around wildly, like his eyes could never take in everything there was to see. The ends of the Presidium curled up to form the ring, and in the middle underneath the white windowed walkways was the lake, its fountains spewing up water inelegantly. He could see an elcor crossing one, passing a turian and asari seemingly engrossed in deep conversation.

Camnion opened the top of the blue and white C-Sec skycar and gestured that Haven get in, while he walked around to get in the driver's seat. Haven fastened his harness with shaking hands, feet bouncing on the floor. Goodness, he needed to calm down. He took a deep breath and was able to still his feet, though he instead started tapping his hands on the center console. They rose up off the, uh, parking lot and started off toward wherever they were going.

The turian was steely and silent during the ride, which didn't really bother Haven at first until he got restless. He kind of wanted to talk about the ride? And ask questions about C-Sec and the Captain and what it was like to live on the Citadel? But Camnion looked to be literally the least inviting person in the galaxy to talk to at that moment, talons gripped unyieldingly on the steering wheel and dark eyes staring straight ahead. After an expectant moment wherein the turian's mandibles had moved as though he meant to speak, Haven huffed and slouched, continuing to tap his fingers.

"Where are we going?" he chanced eventually. It had apparently been ten Galactic Standard minutes, according to the holographic clock embedded in the windshield. It felt like eternity, though. For the record.

"C-Sec headquarters,"Camnion said dully, not even glancing at Haven. "So you can meet Captain Adjulius and the rest of your, uh. 'Department.'" The first finger on each of his hands rose off the wheel to make airquotes.

"What- why the airquotes around 'department?'" Haven asked, mimicking the movement with his fingers.

Camnion- was that a snort? He maybe snorted. Or something. He made some sort of noise of mild humor. "You'll see when we get here. It's a pretty new department, so." There was a little mirth in his tone, but the way he closed up made it clear the conversation was over.

Haven huffed and sat back in his seat, staying quiet until they landed in front of a set of glass doors, a big symbol - the C-Sec symbol, Haven recognized - laid out in metal on the smooth white wall.

Camnion led the way and Haven allowed himself to be led inside through the sliding doors into a cooler, darker area. The lights were low and blue-tinged, the walls some sort of dark metal. The front desk had a female turian working at a terminal, and she didn't look up as Haven and Camnion passed by her to the elevator.

The second level was much more lively, people running around with datapads and shouting to each other over the noise. Most of them were turian, but there was a significant number of humans and even a couple asari and salarians. A couple people called out Camnion's name or even saluted as he walked by, looking at Haven either quizzically or nudging a partner to whisper into their ear, pointing at the new human in the weird outfit. Haven had never felt so out of place, his glasses and old suit seeming to fit better in a period film than the Presidium.

They weaved back through this crowd to the next elevator, and up three floors, coming out on a long hallway of offices. About halfway along, Camnion stopped by a door that read "Capt. A. Adjulius, Bachjret Ward" and it hissed open. He stood back to let Haven in first.

In the room there were three people: an old turian with grayish plates and red markings, one of his mandibles torn half off and the rest of his face on that side scarred bad with what looked like clawmarks, a white human woman with a long, dark ponytail and C-Sec armor, and-

"Councilor!" Camnion said a little too-loudly, sounding as startled as Haven felt. Councilor Briony Lehre was a tall, sturdy woman of Indian descent, once a member of the Systems Alliance Earth defense committee, and had been in the same room as Commander Shepard when the Reapers had first landed. While the Commander had escaped the planet, she had gathered the rest of the committe and had gone to great lengths to collect the most important people on the planet - leaders, politicians, and the like - and keep them together, keep them safe. Many criticized her impulse to hide away, but without her, many of the governments on Earth would have fallen into ruin, it was certain. When the Citadel Council had been reinstated, she had been at the forefront to replace the late Udina. She was always intimidating in vids, but in real life she was moreso. She was near Haven's height, broad shouldered and severe, ash grey hair high and tight in a bun and eyes heavy-lidded and dark brown. She was wearing Councilor's robes and looked like a lioness, fierce and powerful.

"Hello, Officer," she said, inclining her head toward the turian. She turned her eyes on Haven and he felt very small, for once in his life. "And you must be Detective Mai."

Haven nodded quickly. "I- Yes, Councilor." He tugged on his jacket, feeling like he should- he didn't know, bow? She offered him a small smile, holding out a hand that he rushed forward to shake.

"It's great to meet you, Detective," said the turian, rising from his seat behind the desk to walk around and offer his hand to Haven as well. "Captain Arso Adjulius, I'm gonna be your new boss." He sounded perfectly normal, and Haven had to wonder - if the messed-up mandible didn't affect his translated voice, did it affect his voice to turian ears?

"Same," he said, "I- I mean, it’s great to meet you, too. I am so excited to get started." He smiled at Adjulius, dropping his hand and turning his attention to the other human woman. She was stood like a guard against the back wall behind the desk, watching Haven and the others interact. She offered him a smile but no introduction when they caught eyes.

"I'm glad to hear that," Adjulius said, dropping Haven's hand and sitting back against the edge of the desk.

The room was rectangular and fairly nondescript with broad tinted windows on the back wall, a wall safe up on the left wall and a vidscreen running orange lines of code over black, Adjulius's desk centered on the back wall. The Councilor was stood on the left side of the desk, together with the other woman bracketing Adjulius in the center.

"When Councilor Lehre sent me your file, I was less than impressed that it was so... _thin,_ so to speak," Adjulius continued. "But your accomplishments spoke louder than your inexperience."

Haven tried not to flush at the praise. "Thank you, sir," he said, inclining his head. The Balshaw Case had been three months of whirlwind movement and adrenaline, leading to the climactic reveal - Geoffrey Balshaw, billionaire CEO of the Balshaw Eezo Mining Corporation, had been building up a private supply of element zero and the illegal biotics-enhancing drug, red sand. He’d had three human children with promising biotic potential kidnapped and had been conducting experiments on how their powers reacted to prolonged exposure to the eezo and red sand, until Haven discovered the operation and had it shut down. For a couple weeks after the bust he’d had something like worldwide fame, until everyone moved on with their lives and Haven got back to his.

“I should be thanking _you,_ Detective,” the Councilor said. “For protecting humanity - yes, even from itself. You have done very well, and deserve this position as a reward.”

“I- Um, thank you, Councilor,” Haven said, again.

"There is a problem, though," the Captain interrupted. "Your department. It's, ah, currently understaffed, so to speak."

"Understaffed?" Haven tilted his head. He thought back to Camnion’s airquotes. "What do you mean?"

"He means that Bachjret C-Sec Investigations Division has a population of one," Camnion said brusquely, maybe even derisively.

"Not true," interrupted the female officer, standing straighter, "I'm Officer Natalie Duran - I've been appointed to your division. But yeah, beyond us, Detective, Investigations is empty."

"There's really only the two of us?" Haven was a little incredulous.

"We lost the entire division when the Citadel crashed," the Captain said.

"But that was five years ago, surely--"

"The Citadel's only been back in the Widow cluster for two, Detective Mai," Lehre interrupted, smile gone. It had looked unnatural anyway. Now, with what seemed to be a stern almost-glare, she looked every bit the shrewd, iron-willed woman Haven had heard of before. "We've only just got customs working on all the wards, networking is only functional on Zakera Ward, and Special Response is nonexistant right now. With you here, Bachjret has the only even semi-functional Investigations division."

"I hate to say it, but C-Sec is... a _shadow_ of itself." Adjulius sounded honestly regretful. "We're missing men still - their bodies disappeared, if they even left a body. Missing in action, killed in action. Processed by the Reapers, died when the station crashed into Earth.” He counted off on his talons, then gave Haven a meaningful look. “There was _no one_ left, you understand? Practically everyone is either a war veteran or a rookie, and hardly anyone's specialized."

"So we're all in Enforcement," Camnion finished. He didn't look too happy about it. "Or on escort duty." There it is.

Haven paused, looking between each of them, puzzled. "So... I'm the Head of a division that- that doesn't exist?"

"Pretty much," Officer Duran said, shrugging. She looked apologetic, almost.

"We're looking for hopeful prospects at the Academy, and I've got men combing news media and military records for leads," the Captain said, obviously trying to make it not sound as bad as it is. Haven felt doubt trying to take hold. How could he possibly- well, at home, he was a P.I. anyway. He'd never worked with a team before. Yeah, he was supposed to be head of a police division charged with protecting millions of people, and he had one person on his team. But he could manage, at least until he had a fuller team. Couldn't he? "We guessed that a semi-famous name with a clean record would be a good face for the division."

"You're not working completely alone, of course. I understand this is your first time off Earth, correct?" Councilor Lehre asked. Haven nodded. "You'll have Officer Duran during the workday and on duty, of course, and Captain Adjulius will assign you a personal guard, if you'll allow him. Someone to help on investigations and to help you acclimate, and make sure you don't accidentally cause any... issues for humanity on the Citadel." Haven nodded again, pride a little hurt from the insinuation that he might embarrass his species, but he understood the practicality of it. If he accidentally did something gauche in public, or on the job, that would reflect badly on the Councilor for inviting him. "Your presence here is, for now, temporary. Until you've proved yourself capable leading a team." She finally turned her gaze off of Haven, and he quietly released a breath. "Now, if you four will excuse me, I have another meeting in my office I need to attend to." She nodded curtly to the Captain and the two officers, then was gone.

Captain Adjulius visibly relaxed once she was gone. "Damn, that woman scares me." He kicked off the desk to approach Haven, holding out a hand. Duran snickered. "I never got to formally introduce myself. I'm Captain Arso Adjulius, Head of C-Sec, Bachjret Ward. It's great to meet you, Detective, really." He and Haven shook hands. "And I doubt this guy introduced himself, grumpy asshole that he is. So, Mai, this is Officer Laius Camnion. He's your personal guard."

"What!?" Camnion near-shouted, subharmonics resonating. "Captain, I-"

"-cannot refuse a direct order, _Laius,_ so stand down." Adjulius's voice took on a dangerous edge, firmly using the officer’s given name.

"I refuse to babysit the new human!" Camnion insisted. "Get Duran to do it, or some rookie - leave me out of it."

"Are you really going to fight me over this?" Captain Adjulius said, and he sounded tired, like Camnion argued often. "Do I need to suspend you? Again?"

Camnion bristled, but shook his head. "No, sir."

"That's what I thought. Now, take the Detective to his lodgings." He took another moment to fix Camnion with a glare before finally saying, "Dismissed."

Camnion rushed out the door, and the Captain offered one last look and shake of his head before ushering Haven out as well. He had to practically jog to catch up with Camnion, and when he did, he kept jogging just to keep pace.

"Are you actually leading me to my 'lodgings,'" Haven asked around panting breaths, when they were in the elevator together, hands on his knees. "Or are you storming off angrily? 'Cause if you are, if you could at least give me the address-"

Camnion whirled to face Haven with a heavy breath out of his nose. "I'm not going to refuse a direct order, Detective."

"Sure looked like you _wanted_ to-"

"And I'm not going to be your chauffeur, tour guide, or your new friend." Good, Haven didn't need a friend like Camnion anyway. "I'm your Spirits-damned bodyguard, but that's as far as it goes." The elevator doors opened then, and the turian immediately rushed out. Haven groaned before jogging after him - ugh, he hadn't foreseen so much _running._ He didn’t say anything in reply, but all he could think was that Camnion was going to _have_ to be his chauffeur - Haven couldn’t drive a skycar.

The skycar ride to Haven's new apartment was even more terse than the one to the Presidium, and Haven had to try very hard not to tap his fingers on the center console. He didn't want to cause any more trouble. He was pissed off that he'd been assigned the grumpiest turian he'd ever met (though that list of known turians was currently at a whopping two), and that the Officer had decided to dislike him immediately, and that even as a grown man he couldn't be trusted without a _chaperone_ on the Citadel. The news that his entire division was just himself, some woman he didn't know, and this temporary turian both relieved and terrified him - he wouldn't be expected to immediately take charge with such limited resources, surely, but investigating was a lot easier with police help.

Vatari Towers wasn't as tall as its neighbors, nor was it particularly spectacular to make up for it. It was as grand as asari architecture always was, built into the Citadel framework, but no more and no less. Which wasn't a bad thing, all things considered - it was bound to be nice, clean, and functional, but not over the top, which Haven appreciated. He was getting nervous, though. This wasn't the first time he'd lived alone, of course - he'd been staying in his own apartment since he was 23. But the idea of being not only too far away, but also practically disowned from his family just for being there was getting his hands tapping tunelessly against any surface they could find. Who could he talk to when he inevitably got anxious?

"Stop that," Camnion gritted out while the both of them waited at the counter inside. Haven had one hand on his briefcase, which was on top of his luggage at his side, and the other on the countertop, tapping away. Haven pretended he didn't hear him, 'cause he probably couldn't stop tapping if he tried.

Camnion had just begun to growl when the asari secretary returned with a plastic smile. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but the elevators have been nonfunctional all morning. Our records say your room, Detective Mai, is several floors up. Unless either of you are biotic, the only way to get your belongings upstairs is by carrying it up the stairs in the back."

Camnion groaned. "Can't you help us? You're biotic, aren't you?"

The asari glared at him at the assumption, but quickly reasserted her smile. "I could, but then who would watch the counter?" She turned back to Haven. "Your rooms are on the third floor. It's the only door attuned to your omni-tool, so it should be fairly obvious which one is yours when it opens automatically. Have a great day, and thank you for choosing Vatari towers." She smiled one last time before turning her face away from them, and sat at the console in front of her as though they weren't there at all.

Haven's luggage was an old leather-wrapped steel trunk that had been in his family for more than a century and made to replicate an even earlier style. It was fairly heavy on its own, but packed with nearly everything Haven had to his name (actually not that much, if it all fit one suitcase), it was difficult to get off the ground, let alone up the stairs. It took them the better part of a GST hour (which was about one Terran hour and twenty-three minutes, and weird to look at on his omni-tool, but Haven decided he'd get used to it) to get it upstairs and into Haven's room, Camnion griping the entire time about how the stupid handles weren't made for his talons and how Haven kept getting winded. The moment they dropped the trunk in the middle of the floor, Camnion was gone.

"I'll be back in the morning at 9 to take you to the local station. Be ready," he growled out as the door hissed shut behind him.

Haven let out a deep, shuddering exhale and ran his fingers through his hair, sitting on his trunk and looking around the apartment. It was bigger than his one back home, and much more modern. Already furnished, it looked almost comfortable. Once he started getting used to it it'd feel more like home, he was sure, but at the moment all he felt was homesick and alone.

He pulled up his omni-tool, and looked through his contacts and promptly flinched when he saw Sanctuary, remembered the look on her face when he'd announced the job offer. He'd been so excited. His family knew he'd always loved space, and always wanted to go out there and be a part of it, for all they tried to suppress it. Despite their different opinions, he and his older sister had always been close, but apparently she still thought she could control her little brother. When Haven refused to "reason" with her (read: just give in to her wills), the glare she'd shot him could have melted steel. The thought of messaging her felt like a bad habit he was trying to kick, but he still felt guilty when he scrolled past her name. The quarian from the ship, Soro’Loss, was there too, and Haven decided to send him a message.

 

> _Subject: Hey_
> 
> Soro'Loss,  
>  _First day on the Citadel and I've met a Councilor, a C-Sec Captain who's meant to be my new boss, and I've made an enemy of my new bodyguard. Is this how it always is or am I just special?  
>  _ _How's your day been?  
>  _ Haven

He took the next hour to unpack and to explore. There was one bedroom with a large bed, and a wall safe in the walk-in closet. The kitchen was small and the fridge was empty, which brought Haven's attention to the grumbling of his stomach. It was his first evening on the Citadel - his omni-tool said it was 12:62 GST, which seemed to equivocate to mid-late afternoon, and he hadn't eaten since the flight hours ago (was it only hours? it felt like a lifetime).

He had just thought about food when a buzzer went off. He startled, looking around - was it an alarm? What did it mean? And then it went off again, like someone pressing a button, and he realized it was his doorbell.

"Hey, Detective!" It was Officer Duran, notably not in her armor, her hair down. She was laden down with opaque plastic bags. "I heard you were staying here and I'd thought you might want some company, your first night? I brought Earth food. Not that I'm, ah, an expert, but I thought-"

Haven smiled. "You're a saint, I was just thinking about- Come in, please."

She smiled and did so, Haven stepping back into the apartment. "So, Camnion's a jerk, right?" she asked as she set the food on the table, talking fast. "I mean, I respect him, he's good at his job, but he's got a tree trunk up his ass, right? Or is that just me?"

"He's... he's something, alright," Haven said. "'A nice guy' isn't it."

She snorted. "Good to know it's not just me. Adjulius didn't seem too fond either."

"You've never met him before?"

She shook her head. "He works on the docks, so not really. I- Well, I used to work on the Presidium, near the embassies. Now I guess I work for you." She grinned and added, "Boss."

Haven grinned, gesturing to the food. "So, what is all this?"

Duran looked at it all, and at Haven, then shrugged. "I have no idea. The guy at take-out place said it was 'authentic Earthen cuisine' but I mean, I've never been, so I dunno."

Haven started picking though the boxes - it seemed to be a weird combination of Chinese take-out and American staples. "Where are you from then, if not Earth?"

"Nowhere, really," she said, sitting next to him at the table. "I grew up on my parents' cargo ships. They own- well, owned a cargo company. Moving datapads en masse, mostly."

"Exciting?" Haven said around a mouthful of- he guessed it was supposed to be sesame chicken, and it was seasoned right, but the poultry was nothing he'd had before. It was alright, though. Not terrible. Definitely edible.

Duran took a bite too, chewing thoughtfully. "Not really. I don't think I've ever set foot on a planet, actually. That's kind of weird, isn't it?"

"Kind of." He swallowed, and took a sip from the soda she'd brought - again, only slightly off from its Earthen equivalent. "This stuff is weird. Like, it's _really close_ , like they used Earth recipes but substituted things that weren't from there. It's good, don't get me wrong, but- a little jarring."

"I think it's okay," she said. "I'm more of a galactic-cuisine kind of gal. The weirder looks I get from humans, the better." Haven laughed. "What's Earth like, then? Exciting?"

Haven shrugged. "Probably, but nowhere I've been. I grew up in one little town in the middle of nowhere, where everyone is Terra Forma and if you're not, you don't exist." A wry smile. "So I didn't exist. Then I became a detective, and they needed me, so they ignored my less-favorable bits."

Duran's expression turned serious. "When my parents found out about the Reapers after the business with Saren and the geth and Sovereign, they sold everything but the ship we lived in, and stocked up on more non-perishables than you've probably ever seen. We hid in the Terminus Systems for- for, like, 5 years. Six. Five and a half?" She was counting off on her fingers. "Whatever. We didn't come out until the Citadel was put back in place. My parents got arrested for, of all things, tax evasion and I enrolled in the C-Sec academy." She smiled around a full mouth, cheeks puffed out. Cute.

"That's crazy," Haven said, and she nodded.

"Yeah, something like that."

They finished dinner, chatting idly, then settled into the couch, queueing up the third Blasto film (as Duran - _"no, call me Natalie" -_ had seen all of them a million times and didn't mind skipping to the next one Haven needed to see), _Blasto 3: The Search for Sonu Yeut._ Natalie was _terrible_ to watch the movie with, talking over nearly everything that happened and spoiling everything a second before it happened, but she was having such a good time Haven couldn't bear to fuss about it in any way but jokingly. When the film ended, they were laughing so hard - both at the movie and at each other - that Haven had tears in his eyes and Natalie was clutching his arm. She left soon after, though, because it was late and they had work the next day.

"Seeya, Haven! This was fun," she said, waving from the doorway, and Haven waved back.

"See you, Natalie," he replied, "Let's do it again."

She nodded, smiling, and left.

Getting ready for bed, he checked his omni-tool - there was a notification light. A message from Soro.

> _RE: Hey_
> 
> _Haven,_  
>  _No, that's not normal. Damn, man - been here one day and you're already making waves. How'd you manage to piss off the bodyguard? And why’ve you got a bodyguard in the first place?  
>  _ _It's been alright. The job search continues. I'm thinking about Tayseri Ward - they can always use help with the reconstruction. No C-Sec presence is a little worrying though.  
>  _ _-Soro'Loss vas Yaerah_

Haven grinned and replied, explaining his meeting with the Councilor a little more thoroughly, and the ensuing argument between Adjulius and Camnion, and the evening with Natalie. By this point it was dark out and approaching 18:00, two hours to "midnight" at 20:00. He sent the message, and went to his new bedroom to change for bed. He noticed for the first time a panel on the wall once he'd turned off the light, with a faint orange light. He approached it and activated it to see what would happen - the light turned green, and the entire outer wall faded into a simulated view of a nighttime cityscape, so unlike the dark hallways of the Ward, illuminated solely by neon signs and tracklights in the floor and ceiling. It was alien, still, and unlike any Haven had ever seen, and he elected to leave it up when he finally took off his glasses and went to sleep.


	3. The First

“What the hell do you mean you can’t drive?!”

Haven huffed, too tired to find it in him to be embarrassed. “I _can_ drive. It’s just that I can only drive obsolete Terran land vehicles.” He strapped himself into the skycar, avoiding Camnion’s beady-eyed incredulous look. “Look, I know you said you wouldn’t be my chauffeur, but-”

“Spirits,” Camnion huffed, grumpily shutting the door overhead and not waiting for Haven to get settled before taking off. “We’re going to fix that.”

Haven finished buckling himself in and sat back, yawning. “You’re gonna teach me to drive?”

“Spirits, no,” Camnion said, and Haven wondered if his excessive use of ‘Spirits’ as a curse was considered vulgar. “I- I don’t know. We’ll hire an actual driver.”

“But you’re my bodyguard?” Haven said, cocking an eyebrow. “If you have to be at my side at all times, why not drive me around?”

Camnion glanced at him wordlessly a couple times, like he wanted to snap at him but didn’t have any comeback. Instead, he huffed and pulled his mandibles in close to his face, staring resolutely out of the windshield. Delightful.

It didn’t bother Haven none. The bizarre time difference had caught up to him and he’d been awoken by an irate series of beeps from his omni-tool, lit up too-bright neon in the dark, all notifications of messages and missed calls from Camnion. He’d barely shoved his glasses on his face and stood when he heard his front door open and heavy boots stomping inside, dual-toned voice shouting for him to get his “fleshy ass” out of bed. Now, he was disproportionately exhausted from rushing to get ready and follow Camnion down the stairs.

“So, uh,” haven started after several minutes of silence. He rolled his shoulders in a stretch, willing himself awake. It was bad enough he was late. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I’m not your assistant, Detective,” Camnion snapped. “I haven’t a clue.”

Haven swallowed a comment on Camnion’s sour attitude and gave up on him entirely, settling fully back into his seat and staring out the window. The wards were dark and claustophobic in a way that Haven had never known on Earth. Part of him ached for fresh air and sunlight, but he shoved it down. He was happy- no, _ecstatic_ to be in space, and on the Citadel, no less! The artificial day/night cycle of the Presidium would have to do. He wondered when he’d get the chance to head up that way and really take it all in, maybe taking a walk instead of rushing round in a skycar.

Not today, it seemed.

Bachjret Ward’s C-Sec building was the nicest of those around it, its glowing signs pristine and only a little flickery, whereas the surrounding area grew dangerously dark in places, lit only by red emergency lighting that often flickered and died. Still, it couldn’t be _that_ dangerous, as it was still situated right next to the C-Sec office.

Camnion parked the skycar and was out of it before Haven was unbuckled. He started walking toward the glass double doors briskly, stopping about halfway to turn and cross his arms rudely. Haven finally finished undoing all the straps (and reminded himself to maybe _not_ use all of them, next time, or go without like Camnion did) and climbed out of the skycar, frowning all the while. The moment he was free of its confines the top sealed shut with a _whoosh_ of air.

The metal floor clanged gently under Haven’s old fashioned leather shoes, and he took great care not to stomp after Camnion like a petulant child. Instead, he trailed after the turian with a sour look only Camnion himself could best.

Inside there was a constant buzz of commotion and conversation, dozens of people in blue-black armor bustling about from terminal to terminal, screens lit up and casting the area around them in shades of orange, blue, green. There were white lights in the ceiling but they were only bright enough that Haven’s eyes didn’t have to strain to see. Everything had been so _dark_ since he’d left the Presidium - was this what station life was like?

Camnion didn’t pause long enough to let him gawk and pushed through the crowd to the back, ignoring indignant shouts and glares. Haven, however, inspired a different reaction. Whispering and pointing, blatant looks and his name, mentions of _Balshaw_ and _Earth_ and _Councilor Lehre_ in the air. He felt inexplicably shy for the first time in his life and stuck close to Camnion’s back.

He hadn’t noticed many humans among the crowd. A lot of turians, and a great number of asari and salarians, but only a handful of humans, all of them visibly young - too young to have lived alone on the station before the War. Adjulius _had_ mentioned that most everyone was a rookie, and that pretty much all senior members had- well. The demographic didn’t surprise Haven all that much.

There was an elevator at the back that Camnion and Haven both stepped into, along with a harried looking salarian, engrossed in his datapad, and an asari that bounced on the balls of her feet instead of standing still.

“Are you the new Head of Investigations?” she asked, voice high and quick. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Big name on Earth. You’re pretty handsome. And tall. I didn’t know humans grew that tall?”

Haven stared at her, then shook his head a little to collect himself. “I- Yes. I’m Detective Haven Mai.” He was only a little shorter than Camnion, and over a head taller than the asari, as well as most humans he knew. It wasn’t something he really thought about, though it tended to be the first thing people noticed about him. Well, that and the glasses. “Apparently we do.”

She nodded. “Apparently.” The elevator stopped and she bounced back out of it. Haven wondered just how young she was - she seemed equivalent to a human teenager, but he had to remind himself that asari ages didn’t quite work that way.

It was on the next floor that Camnion pushed past him into the hall before them, snagging the fabric of Haven’s suit on a corner of one of his armor pieces and nearly tearing it. Instead Haven stumbled, quickening his pace to a half-jog to keep up. They were around the same height, sure, but Camnion had long turian legs and a bad enough attitude that he always seemed to be a couple feet in front of Haven, no matter how he tried to keep pace.

At last they turned into the office, the door sliding open automatically when Camnion reached it. Above in more glowing letters read “INVESTIGATIONS,” thought the sign seemed to be stuck to the wall as opposed to embedded in it, like all others were.

“Hey, Haven!”

Camnion visibly startled, taloned hand twitching toward the rifle on his back, but Haven ignored him and imparted a smile upon Natalie. The office was small and empty but for a couple desks and Natalie, perched atop one in her armor. Her omni-tool disappeared when she saw them.

“Hey, Natalie,” Haven greeted, stepping into the center of the room and turning around to take it all in. It was _small,_ four desks in two rows and two doors on the back wall, one blank and one emblazoned with his name and new title, _“Head of Investigations, Bachjret Ward.”_ The empty frames of dormant holoscreens were suspended on the walls like skeletons, as bare-bones as the rest of it all. “Uh, is this it?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding when Haven’s gaze finally fell back on her. “We’re not exactly high priority, and there’s only the three of us.”

“Does it have to be so out of the way?” Haven asked. “What was it like before?”

Natalie looked at Camnion as if he had the answers, but he was standing still as a statue by the door, arms crossed over his chest. When he noticed he was being watched he bristled, then shrugged.

“I’m as new as you are, Duran,” he said. “I don’t know anything about Investigations.”

“What branch were you hoping on being promoted to, then?” Natalie asked. “Or were you content with Enforcement?”

“Special Response,” he responded, puffing out his chest a little. “The _exciting_ stuff.”

“There’s a reason Special Response isn’t up,” Natalie said. “We haven’t had anything more than petty crime and looting in the two years the Citadel has been functional. You’d be out of a job the moment you were promoted.”

Camnion seemed to harden impossibly further. “You never know when a threat might arise, and we’re not ready as we are.”

“And you’re qualified? They’re practically military,” Natalie said. “I thought you were as new as I am.” Her tone turned joking, or a little mocking, and Camnion flat-out glared.

“I served on Earth, during the final assault,” he said, lowly. “It was during my _mandatory military service._ I’m more qualified than any human on the station, _Duran,_ so maybe watch your tone.”

“Camnion, calm down, she didn’t mean it like that,” Haven cut in, stepping between them. Camnion had taken several steps closer to stare Natalie down, mandibles splayed enough to show his needle-like teeth. Haven met his eyes and discovered they were the same sort of dark green as the depths of an old, untouched forest, a rare and beautiful sight on Earth. After a long, terse moment, Camnion huffed a breath out his nose and stepped back, crossing his arms back over his chest.

“Sorry,” Natalie said quietly, notably more somber than before. Then she cleared her throat, pulling her omni-tool back up. Haven stepped back to give her space. “I- Um, we have a case. A store owner in the lower Ward reported two of his employees missing.”

The mood was awkward, terse, and Haven cleared his throat, then nodded. “Okay. How long?”

“A couple hours,” she said, scrolling through the report. “They left to pick up a shipment from a storage bay early this morning and never came back.”

Haven made a face. “It hasn’t been long enough. Do we know they’re missing and not just slacking somewhere?”

“I know the standard on Earth is longer,” Natalie said. “But things work differently out here. Hours seems like a short time to you, but in a couple hours someone could be dead or on a slaver ship, halfway to the mass relay. If we wait a whole _day,_ they could be across the galaxy doing hard labor on Omega before we even begin.”

Haven’s eyes went wide. “Christ! I- Alright, let’s- Should we go?”

Natalie pulled a face, something like a smile on her lips. “I dunno, Haven. You’re the boss.”

Oh. Right. Haven thought back to how he used to go about missing persons cases, the few he’d had - most people would go to the police over a PI, but now _he_ was the police, and that was kind of jarring. He didn’t feel very qualified, all of a sudden, like a fish out of water.

“I’m the boss,” he repeated, and Camnion made a noise like a cough that Haven realized was more likely a snort of laughter. “Right. Okay. Let’s- let’s go talk to the store owner, then.”

Natalie nodded. “Good idea, Detective.” She clapped a hand on Camnion’s shoulder as she made for the door, the action clanging metal against metal. “You’re driving.”

\--

“Sir- Mr. Yagann, I’m going to need you to repeat that, and _slower,”_ Natalie said, fingers moving quickly through the holographic interface of her omni-tool. “From the beginning.”

“Of course, yes, sorry,” the salarian said, no more slowly than the first two times, wringing his hands. “I- I sent Hana and Aeraf to pick up th-the Elkoss shipment in Storage Bay 3-8e and they- they haven't returned, and I don't- they aren't responding to messages." He shifted around, looking anywhere but the officers for a moment before looking pleadingly at Haven. "I called Enforcement, but they haven't come back either, so I-"

“We’ll go check it out as soon as we’re finished here,” Haven said, picking around behind the counter. Yagann had given him permission to go through the employees’ things in the back, but he hadn’t turned up anything of importance. Behind the counter was bare but for a pistol (registered to _Laekin Yagann,_ Haven discovered upon scanning) and the various bits and bobs on display, from heat sinks to omni-tools to visors. He frowned and straightened. “Which is probably now.”

“Thank you so much, Detective!” Yagann said, and Haven offered him something like a reassuring smile before striding off and out of his shop, the two officers trailing behind him.

“Why didn’t we know Enforcement officers had gone missing too?” Haven asked as he started walking toward the skycar.

“Must not’ve crossed his mind,” Natalie mused. “He seemed a little scatterbrained.”

“True.” He directed his next question at Camnion. “How far is it to the storage bay?”

Camnion shrugged, looking around for distinguishing features. “Probably not far.” He pulled up his omni-tool and nodded, mostly to himself. “Close enough to walk. Let’s leave the car here.”

Up stairs, down stairs, a terse, silent elevator ride, and now _another_ hallway and some more stairs later, and they finally found themselves at a large door labeled “STORAGE BAY 3-8e.”

“This is close enough to walk?” Haven asked, definitely not pouting.

Camnion ignored him and pushed ahead, lifting his omni-tool to open the door with a hiss.

The warehouse was, expectably, very big. It wasn't exceptionally tall, but was a dozen meters wide, and very long - between the sheer distance and the crates upon crates of stuff between Haven and the opposite wall, the end of the room was more a theoretical concept than a real thing.

Haven pushed ahead now, and he heard Natalie drawing her submachine gun, which made him nervous. But maybe Natalie was just nervous, too. She's a trained professional, he reminded himself. Breathe. It’s _fine._

It was less fine when he rounded a corner and found the cargo they were looking for - and a dozen people in blue and white armor.

"Shit, it's C-Sec!" one of them yelled, and there was gunfire. Haven was glued to one spot, staring at the dead bodies of- of a human girl and a young salarian. They must have been Yagann’s employees, and they were- _oh, God._

There was- his arm erupted in pain like nothing he’d ever felt and Natalie shoved him behind the nearest stack of crates to land on his good arm. She ran past him, rolling past the mercs to get into cover on the opposite side. Camnion seemed to have found a spot a little further away to take point.

"What are _Blue Suns_ doing on the Citadel?" Natalie wondered aloud, then glance over at where Haven was cowering, clutching his bleeding arm. "Haven, what are you doing? Help us out, here!" she shouted over the gunfire. "We only have so many thermal clips on us!"

Haven couldn't reply, as he had curled up with his back against the crates, trying to control his breathing. "You're fine," he murmured to himself, breaths shuddering and fingers shaking as he ran them through his hair. "You're fine, you're fine, you're-" _Bleeding. Crying._ There were hot pinpricks behind his eyes as his face heated up. Of _course_ on his first case he'd- of course this would happen, of course, why not. That would help his reputation, having a panic attack at a little gunfight. At a little gunshot wound.

Natalie tore her eyes from the mercs for a second to see what Haven was up to, and he looked up in time to catch her expression sag in understanding and pity. He didn't dare look at Camnion.

He curled back in on himself until the Blue Suns' shouts finally choked off. Natalie rushed to him, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. He pulled himself up on his own, ignoring her hand until she let it drop. He couldn’t meet her eyes.

"What the hell was that, Detective?!" Camnion said, rounding a corner and pushing Haven up against the wall of crates, which shook dangerously. The turian didn't seem to care, too close and furious. The few inches he had over Haven became especially obvious.

Haven swallowed thickly. "I-I don't- I've n-never-"

"Never been in combat before?!" he shouted, subharmonics wavering. His mandibles were thrown out from his face, exposing his teeth even moreso than when he’d snapped at Natalie earlier. "You joined _C-Sec_ without any combat training or experience?!"

Haven felt his throat closing up, like he was going to cry again, something about his old Combat Drone training from college on his tongue. He hadn’t used his drone in years, and definitely didn’t carry around kits anymore. His eyes still weren't dry from before, his hands shaking as he brought them up to tug uselessly against the turian's arm holding him to the wall. Natalie swooped in.

 _"CAMNION,_ step down!" she shouted, pushing him off of Haven one-handed. Camnion stumbled back, closing his mouth tightly. "He just had a panic attack and probably the worst scare of his life! Let him breathe for a fucking second!"

"He just put himself, the both of us, and the whole case in danger, Duran!" Camnion growled. "I don't care if he shit his damn pants, I'm not gonna wipe his ass to make him feel better about it!"

"I-I'm sorry, I- I'm-" Haven stuttered through his uneven breathing. "I- on Earth, on my u-usual c-cases, I never n-needed to be able to-"

"Out here, and on the Citadel, you'll need to," Natalie said, sternly. She took his injured arm by the wrist and with a motion of her omni-tool, a cool gel appeared in her hand, which she rubbed over the wound through the hole the slug had torn in his sleeve. The pain was relieved near instantaneously, and Haven sighed in relief. "I dunno if you’re a pacifist or just a civilian, but out here it's not a moral thing, but a survival thing. C-Sec is police, and you're not a P.I. anymore." She paused, then clapped her hand on his shoulder. "We're gonna teach you to shoot, okay? At least a pistol."

Haven ignored the shaking of his hands, a voice in his head repeating that he wasn’t qualified for this. “I- I can do a drone. A combat drone. I just- I just need a couple drone kits and-”

“That’s a start, but you need to be packing,” Natalie said. “We’ll get started first thing tomorrow morning, alright?”

The idea of holding a gun, let alone _shooting_ one, made his hands shake harder, but he didn't want to argue. Haven felt very vulnerable all of a sudden, naked and hung out to dry. He _definitely_ wasn’t qualified for this. He was a private investigator, not a police detective! But being shouted at again would have him in tears; he could feel it. He nodded, and Natalie mirrored the movement.

"What do you mean 'we'?" Camnion contested, but Natalie just rolled her eyes at him.

"Fine, just me. You can just stand around and look pretty, I guess," she said. "Find me in the shooting range first thing tomorrow. Now, back to this case."

She cleared her throat and strode out into the open, the aisle between where the Blue Suns had been holed up and where she and the others had taken cover. “I know one of you is still alive. Give yourself up and we won’t kill you when we find you.”

There was a long silence, perforated only by Haven’s steadily calming breathing. Both he and Camnion were watching Natalie, the latter with a look of disquiet.

“There was no one left,” he said, loud enough for Natalie to hear. “My scanners-”

A pair of three-taloned hands stuck up in the air over the top of a crate, and a turian decked out in blue and white armor stood a little nervously. “I- Fine! Fine. Take me in.”

Natalie sent Camnion a sharp smile, an _I told you so_ look, and Haven let himself snort a short laugh. Camnion bristled, but nonetheless jogged forward to help her restrain and cuff the criminal.

Haven sort of zoned out for the walk back to the skycar, enough so that before he knew it he was in his seat with Camnion in the driver’s side, the other turian restrained in the back. They were still parked, the roof open wide.

“Where’s Natalie?” he asked, and Camnion stared at him for a long time.

“She just left to tell Yagann what happened to the kids,” he said. “Weren’t you paying attention? Did the firefight shake you up _that_ badly?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Haven said with a shrug.

“Why’d you guys bring a civilian anyway?” the turian in the back asked, something like humor in his voice. Haven frowned, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“He’s not a civilian,” Camnion said. “This is Detective Mai, head of Bachjret’s new Investigations Division.” He didn’t sound nearly as sarcastic as Haven had expected he might.

The turian barked a laugh. “Your head detective is a _civilian?_ And a weak one too!”

“You’re one to call someone weak. You were captured by a _human_ officer.” Camnion snickered, and Haven shot him a look he didn’t see. That was the second comment about human officers so far. What was his problem?

“She did a better job than you did, jackass.” Haven snorted.

Camnion looked ready to snap, but then Natalie was climbing into the backseat next to their prisoner and he settled for a low growl.

“Alright, we’re ready to go,” Natalie said, and Camnion sealed the roof and took off.

\--

“What’s your name?”

The holding cells and interrogation chambers were a floor lower than the entrance, and somehow felt darker. Haven didn’t like it, but neither did the turian handcuffed to the desk, which was probably a good thing.

“I don’t have to talk to you,” the turian said. They’d gotten him out of his helmet, at least, and confiscated his weapons. His hide and plating were lighter than Camnion’s and sort of greyish, with white markings that seemed more smeared-on than intentional.

“Unless you intend to hire a lawyer, yes you do,” Haven said, rolling his eyes. “We’re not even arresting you for anything. If you tell us what Blue Suns are doing on the Citadel, and what you were after in that storage bay, we’ll be happy to let you go.”

“Might make you walk through Enforcement in that armor though,” Camnion said, the only other person in the room. Natalie had volunteered to file the official report and had headed up to the office. “Especially if you don’t cooperate.”

The turian glared, unsure whether to focus on Haven or Camnion, then averted his eyes to the table. “Decter Syllius,” he said at last, and Haven nearly smiled.

“Was that so hard, Decter?” Camnion asked, and Haven shot him a look.

Syllius didn’t respond, glaring more forcefully at the tabletop. Haven took the steel chair opposite him and flipped it around, sitting in it backwards with his arms crossed on the backrest. “What’re Blue Suns doing on the Citadel, Mr. Syllius?”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, setting his cuffed hands on top of the table and picking at his fingers meaninglessly. Then he shrugged. “There’s a pretty famous couple that came from Illium a little over a year ago. We’re supposed to stage an ambush.”

“For two people?” Camnion asked, incredulous. “Surely a single assassin would be more suited to the job.”

Syllius shook his head. “They’re both former mercs from Omega. Strongest biotics the station has ever seen, ‘cept maybe Aria T’Loak.”

Haven frowned. “What are their names?”

“No one knows their real names,” Syllius said with a shrug. “Only their nicknames for each other, ‘A’nao’ and ‘Zrek.’”

“What else do you know about them?” Haven asked.

“They’re really old,” Syllius said. “Like, centuries. Zrek is asari and the A’nao is krogan, both well over two-fifty, probably. They’ve pissed a _lot_ of people off over the last century.”

“Including the Blue Suns?” Camnion asked, shifting his grip on his rifle. Despite Haven’s protests, he had insisted he carry it during the interrogation.

“They pissed off someone when they left Illium,” Syllius said with another shrug. “Don’t need to know the details. They hired us to track and ambush the both of them at their hotel near Silversun.”

“Then why the hell are you on _Bachjret_ Ward?” Camnion asked, suspicious. “Silversun is on Kithoi Ward.”

Syllius seemed to grow nervous, mandibles twitching and pulling tight to his face. He glanced from Haven to Camnion, gauging their expressions perhaps, and nodded to himself.

“Our Commander went missing,” he said at last. “And- well, we all had to find places to stay on the Citadel while we were here, especially ‘cause we knew this mission might take a while. A lot of us pitched in to get something big enough for all of us in the lower parts of Kithoi, but Commander Keniston got himself something nicer on Bachjret. So- so we decided to check it out, but when we got there our scans showed no signs of life inside.

“So- so we investigated, a little. Bourke - our tech guy, the one you killed with a concussive shot?” He spoke directly to Camnion, an edge to his voice like emotion he was trying to ignore, but the other turian rolled his eyes like he’d never cared less about anything. “He managed to track Keniston’s movements to Kithoi Ward last night, then back to Bachjret before the signal died. So we figured- Zrek and A’nao killed him last night and hid his body. That wasn’t the first storage bay we checked today.”

“And the kids were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Haven concluded, and Syllius nodded.

“They saw us and the salarian was gonna call C-Sec,” he said with a sort of casualness one usually didn’t use when talking about killing teenagers in cold blood. “Had to keep them quiet.”

“Whole lot o’ good that did you,” Haven said. “What was Keniston’s first name?”

Syllius’s brow plates shifted downward in a sort of skeptical frown. “Uh, Terrance.”

Haven nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Syllius. That’s all we need from you.” Syllius visibly relaxed, but Haven continued. “Officer Camnion, escort him to Enforcement, if you would.”

“What?!” Syllius spluttered, jerking around in Camnion’s hold once the officer grabbed his arms from behind. “You said-!”

“That was before you confessed to taking part in Hana and Aeraf’s murders,” Haven said, and he could have sworn Camnion looked _impressed_  as he led Syllius out of the interrogation chambers.

\--

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Cloying, sickly and metallic like rotten meat and rusted iron, the unmistakable stench of blood was thick in the air of Terrance Keniston’s apartment when Haven stepped into it, on the heels of Camnion and Natalie with their guns drawn. They quickly checked the apartment for any sign of life and deemed it empty, allowing Haven to begin.

He spent hours scanning every surface in the apartment for fingerprints (none other than Keniston’s), hacking into the private terminal in the living room, and going through all his correspondences, only to find nothing out of the ordinary aside from a suit of blue and white Blue Suns armor and all the other evidence of Keniston’s criminal history. There was nothing else of import to check except-

“Hey, Haven, did you check out the body?”

Haven shook his head, too hard and too quickly. He reread another email about some weapon mod shipment. The body hadn’t been hidden, as Syllius and the others had apparently hypothesized - it was lying in the middle of the floor, growing more difficult to avoid by the moment.

“Well, maybe you should,” Natalie went on. “I think the body is kind of important in a murder trial, don’t you think?”

Haven resisted a childish urge to whine. He’d never worked a _murder_ before - that was definitely outside of his jurisdiction, back on Earth. Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to. He took a deep, steadying breath and logged out of the terminal.

The sight of the body made him nauseous, but he persevered. Keniston’s corpse was splayed in a heap on the ground, as if he’d collapsed or been dropped where he lay. He was- his clothes were all torn to shreds, and the entire body- the _entire body_ was covered in stab wounds. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands if they were all over the back, too - literally death by a thousand cuts. There wasn’t much to really gain from the sight, aside from the knowledge that whoever had killed Terrance Keniston was equal parts patient and sadistic.

“This many, uh, lacerations couldn’t have been fast,” Haven said aloud. “Who’s going to process the crime scene? Pictures, scans, more than I did.”

“I can call for Enforcement’s crime scene team,” Natalie offered, and Haven nodded.

“Yeah, do that.” He pushed his glasses into place with the back of his wrist, hands covered by blue holo-gloves that, Natalie said, used the same shielding tech that her armor did. And to think, on Earth Haven had been using _laytex._ “Do we have a murder weapon?”

Camnion didn’t respond, standing by the front door as if he was waiting to leave. Haven huffed and stood, stepping over the body and the dried pool of blood and into the kitchenette, gingerly tugging open drawers so as to not disturb the contents. He’d already gone over the handles and countertop with his omni-tool and nothing was out of place, but nonetheless he checked. The murderer may have cleaned up after themself, if they hadn’t simply brought their own weapon and took it with them when they left.

The third and fourth drawers were the only ones out of the ordinary - the first two had been organized neatly, but the third was a messy pile of cutlery and the fourth contained a single knife, as if the rest of its contents had been dumped into the third.

“Found it,” he said, more to himself than anything.

“Crime scene’s on their way,” Natalie said. “What’d you find?”

Haven nearly picked it up to show her, but decided to leave it alone. Leave the scene as un-disturbed as he could, at least until the crime scene techs showed. Instead he beckoned her over and pointed. “Murder weapon.”

“You found it like this? By itself?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.”

“Right?”

It was clean, at least visibly, and a scan revealed no fingerprints. If it was so pristine, why set it apart from the others? Why not leave everything as it was?

“It could be a distraction,” Natalie mused. “They took the real one with them, or put it in the drawer with the others?”

Haven considered, then shook his head. “There was distraction enough already. This is too deliberate.”

He thought about it while they waited for the crime scene techs to arrive, and then while they waited for the crime techs to finish. By the time they were loading the body into a bag, Haven had more questions than answers and a pit in his stomach that told him this case was going to be bigger than he’d thought.


	4. Shade

> _ Initiating boot-up... ... ... _

Its photoreceptor flickered to life, aperture spinning and adjusting rapidly. The dark cargo hold of the  _ Faram  _ faded into view, as well as its own reflection in an opaque blue visor.

“Rise and shine,” Creator Shuro’Narah nar Tulazi said. “We’re almost there!”

> _ Scanning ship... ... Results: Passengers: 13 organics, 1 synthetic. Food store: Low. Fuel: Low. _
> 
> _ Analyzing coordinates... ... ... Result: Widow Cluster, Serpent Nebula. _

“ETA 30 Galactic Standard minutes,” it said. “I should have been activated 70 minutes ago, Shuro.”

Shuro’Narah flinched and it detected a surge of warmth in the quarian’s cheeks, indicative of embarrassment. “Sorry, Shade, it’s been really busy up top and I sorta... forgot. But it was Kas’s job to remind me! So really, it’s his fault.” She turned and beckoned for it to follow, leaving the hold and stepping into the light.

The living quarters were in chaos, Creators bustling in all directions in the small space, gathering their belongings and shouting. A couple of them noticed Shade and startled, then waved at it in greeting before going back to whatever they’d been busy with. Shuro’Narah took it by the hand and dragged it to the front of the ship (“They’ll want to know I woke you up!”), where the captain and pilot were speaking.

“-has to be notified,” Creator Captain Jeru’Veenna vas Faram said sternly. “We don’t want to cause an incident.”

“It has as much a right to visit the Citadel as we do,” the pilot, Creator Vaetor’Xozh vas Faram, said. “It can go through customs with the rest of us.”

“Hello, Captain Jeru’Veenna,” Shade said, and the pair startled.

“Good to see you’re up and running, Shade,” Captain Veenna said. “How was your, um, rest?”

“I uploaded to a spare trooper platform on Rannoch for the duration of the trip,” it said. “I assisted with construction in Laako’Laevo.”

“Noble,” Vaetor said, shooting Captain Veenna a pointed look.

“What’re you guys arguing about?” Shuro asked, still holding Shade’s hand. She was the youngest on the ship, travelling with her older brother, Kas’Narah, on his Pilgrimage. The top of her visor barely came up to Shade’s hip.

“C-Sec doesn’t know we have a geth on the ship,” Captain Veenna said. “I was telling Vaetor that we need to alert the authorities so that they don’t panic when they see it step onto the station.”

“And  _ I  _ was telling the Captain that we’re supposed to report animals and cargo. Shade is just another passenger,” Vaetor said. “I’ve already told them we have fourteen of us.”

“I share Captain Veenna’s concerns,” Shade said. “I do not wish to put anyone in danger.”

“Now you’re outnumbered, Vaetor,” Veenna said, and dialed up C-Sec on his controls. While it rang she shook her head and muttered something about “damned insubordinates.”

“Citadel Security, Bachjret Ward Dock A32,” the asari on the other end said, not bothering to look at the video feed. “What is your status?”

“This is Captain Veenna of the Faram,” the Captain said. “I-”

“Your ship has already been cleared for docking, Captain,” the asari said.

“Our pilot forgot to mention an important detail about one of our passengers.”

The asari’s face shifted in manufactured concern. “Oh? Is someone sick? Will you need immediate medical assistance upon docking?”

“No, we-”

“Are you harboring a criminal or fugitive?”

“No-”

“Then it can wait for customs. Thank you for your patience, and have a safe landing.” The feed cut off and Veenna cursed colourfully under her breath, kicking at the base of Vaetor’s seat.

“That rude asari  _ bosh’tet-” _

“It’ll be fine, Captain,” Vaetor consoled, bringing the ship ever closer to its destination.

“If she’d just looked, she would have seen it!” Veenna exclaimed, gesturing at Shade one-handed.  _ “Keelah,  _ if something goes wrong-”

“Her name is Officer Sharae T’esyne,” Shade interrupted. Veenna stared at it, prompting explanation. “I ran her face through the C-Sec employee database-”

“Shade, you can’t just-”

“It’s a  _ public _ record, accessible by civilians to catch impersonators,” it said quickly. “I did not access it illegally, I assure you.” It straightened. “If Captain Veenna would like, I can file a report with her superior when I visit C-Sec, later today.”

Veenna paused, then nodded. “Fine. You and I will go out first, so I can explain, alright?”

“Affirmative.”

Shade stood the airlock for the rest of the docking procedure, trying to ignore its worry. Creator Vaetor’Xozh said it would be fine. It would have to trust his word.

Shuro had disappeared several minutes ago to find her brother and Shade could hear the excited tones of her voice above all others, though it couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying. More than once during this platform’s stasis, she had come down to the hold and spoke to it, telling the mass of metal and synthetic muscle about her day on the ship, about her brother and his friends’ antics, and about how she wished there were other children aboard to play with. The platform had a constant sensory feed that Shade could analyze when it downloaded itself into it. If she touched it, however, it alerted its platform on Rannoch as quickly as possible and, if it could take the time, it would come back to its primary platform, much to Shuro’s delight.

Where she had come to it for comfort before, it now longed for her company, but instead it stayed in place, prepared to face whatever would come once aboard the station.

“Docking in T minus ten... nine...” Vaetor’s voice said through the tinny overhead speakers after a brief, barely earsplitting screech of the seldom-used audio receptor.

Everyone erupted into excited whispers and Captain Veenna took point at Shade’s side, exchanging an obscured look with it. It shared an equally blank look, and hoped they were both being reassuring.

“Two... one... Docked.” There was a lurch of electromagnets taking hold of the ship, and a whoosh of air as the first airlock door opened.

Shade and Veenna took a couple steps forward, the geth ducking to accomadate its height, and as the second airlock door opened to the dock, the Captain positioned herself in front of the geth protectively. Shade was touched at the gesture, feeling a sort of affection bloom in its chest. Metaphorically, of course.

The dock was bustling, full of people of all races moving around and shouting at each other. One whole wall was glass, showing the ships milling about, docking and taking off and moving from one Ward to another. Shade could see the five arms of the Citadel - Kithoi, Aroch, Zakera, Tayseri, and their destination, Bachjret - stretching out into the vastness of space and thrown into sharp relief by Widow.

Shade had a fraction of a second before the chaotic peace was disrupted.

_ “GETH!” _

There was a shout, the first of many, and so much  _ screaming.  _ Shade very nearly turned its audio receivors off, wincing at the noise.

Then the gunfire started. Shade didn’t have the capacity to judge where the shots came from because in an instant, Captain Veenna was at its feet cursing and bleeding red  _ everywhere.  _ It ducked down to pick her up, hastily, and the gunfire continued, louder and- and from more directions. Multiple shooters, and there was still more shouting. It turned its back to the crowd, shielding Veenna as well as it could. At the very least, those closest to the door had cleared a wide berth around Shade in fear and it was able to carry the Captain back inside without further incident, sealing the doors behind it.

“She needs medi-gel,” it said, handing her off to two Creators, who nodded without a word. It could hear Shuro crying and Kas quietly trying to comfort her. “Is anyone else injured?” Its platform was untouched and it was grateful for the heavy-duty shields and armor of this infiltration platform. Its trooper platform had been made of glass in comparison, not to mention much shorter.

“Shuro tripped and caught her suit on something,” Kas said, “But she hasn’t left the ship and I sealed it up, so she should be fine.”

Shade nodded, a movement more about the shoulders than the neck, as its neck was inflexible. “That’s good. Anyone else?” It was met by silence and it nodded again. “Alright. We-”

There was a heavy bang, presumably an armored fist on the airlock door. Shade paused.

“Open up, or we drop your ship and blow it up!” a voice shouted from the other side, and Shade approached the door.

“Shade, don’t-”

“Will you allow me to explain?” it asked through the door, calmly. It hadn’t yet taken the time to incorporate emotional inflections in its speech, like some of the geth on Rannoch had done. Some even had accents similar to Creators’, or ones all their own. For now it was glad its fear wasn’t apparent.

“Who’s ‘me’?” the voice asked, still shouting.

“I am Geth Mobile Infiltration Unit Number Seven-Zero-Nine Dash Six,” it responded. “But I go by the unit designation ‘SHADE.’”

“You- you have a name?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence. “We’ll listen. Now, open up.”

Shade opened the door and immediately it was grabbed, the turian officer it had been speaking to holding its arms behind its back. It could have broken free, easily, but it allowed itself to be detained.

“Shade, no!” Shuro cried, running out of the ship and after the C-Sec officers, arms outstretched. Kas caught her, shushing her, though he, like everyone else on the dock, had his eyes fixed on Shade.

\--

“Talk.”

Shade shifted in the small seat, definitely not suited for someone its size. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

The officer - Officer Prosis - glared at him. “I want you to tell me what a  _ geth  _ is doing on the Citadel,” she said, hands flat on the table and leaning over it. She still had to look up to meet its glowing red photoreceptor. 

“I have as much a right to visit the Citadel as anyone,” it said, repeating Vaetor’s words from before. “Personally, I decided to come to the Citadel for multiple reasons.”

Prosis frowned and took a seat across from it. “Care to tell me what they are?”

Shade nodded. “Yes. First of all, I would like to work against the prejudice many still have against synthetics, despite our part in rebuilding after the war. It was geth who, on the Council’s orders, were able to do the bulk of the repairs to the Mass Relays and the Citadel. Geth have also been taking a big part in helping the Creators- the  _ quarians _ recolonize Rannoch.” It paused for effect, and Prosis seemed almost uncomfortable. “Second of all, I would like to do good on the station, and help people. The collective image of the geth was tainted by the acts of a few, who were being controlled and taken advantage of by the Old- the Reapers. If my welcome says anything, it says that this attitude still hasn’t changed. And third, I made the decision to come as a sentient, conscious being and that’s my  _ right _ as a galactic citizen. I don’t need to explain myself. I have done nothing wrong.”

It stood, tearing through its cuffs with minimal effort. Prosis still looked dumbstruck from its explanation, but she stood and reached for her submachine gun, looking a litte panicked. “Hey, you-!”

“You cannot hold me simply because I am a geth,” it said, stepping toward the door and into Prosis’s space, unintentionally looming over her. “Please allow me to leave, Officer. I do not want this to be difficult.”

She stared for a long time, then deflated all at once. “Fine,” she said. “Let me escort you out, and I’ll have a report issued to every officer on the station that you’re not a threat.”

“Thank you,” it said, and followed her out of the interrogation chamber and into the elevator. It had to crouch a great deal to fit, but it was able to make it work without much contortion. Newer infiltration platforms were smaller than this, and around the same height as the typical trooper, but Shade found it preferred the older, taller model. Not as showy as a prime, but still powerful and intimidating. Besides, its cloaking ability is where it got its name.

“No one panic, it’s friendly,” Prosis announced the moment the doors opened on the main Enforcement floor, everyone stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, but she continued to push forward with Shade on her heels until they were at the door.

“Here you go,” she said, gesturing. “Be careful out there. And, uh, sorry for-”

“Officer Prosis, I have an inquiry.”

She stared. “I- What about?”

“I would like to speak with Captain Arso Adjulius,” it said.

She flinched. “Are you gonna report me? Look, I didn’t mean-”

“Negative, Officer,” it interrupted. “I have an interview.”

Her pale brow plates furrowed downward. “What kind of interview?”

“I intend to join the new Investigations Division, under Detective Haven Mai,” it said, feeling a little prideful in its noble goals. “It’s a job interview.”

Prosis looked like her whole world had been flipped upside down in the past few minutes, and Shade almost apologized. She only stared incredulously at it for a moment, though, before shaking it off and beckoning for Shade to follow her back to the elevator.

This ride was longer, and the second the doors were shut Prosis had questions. “You want to be a detective?”

“I believe I can be of use as an investigator, yes,” it said. “I have a unique perspective.”

“And Adjulius is  _ okay  _ with you being a geth?”

“I told him much of what I told you. No prejudice can stand up to sound logic.”

“Is- Is that a quote? Did you just make that up?”

“Yes.”

“Spirits. You sure are something else.”

The top floor of the Bachjret C-Sec building was all leadership offices, with the captain’s seated prestigiously at the back. Shade reviewed the blueprints silently and noted the captain’s office was the biggest in the building.

Prosis notified the captain of their presence and was the first to step into the room.

“Officer Prosis, what are you- Oh,” Adjulius trailed off when Shade ducked through the door. “You must be Shade.”

“I detained it on the docks, sir,” Prosis explained a little sheepishly. “I- No disrespect, sir, but maybe it would have been a good idea to notify the officers in the area that the geth was not a threat.”

“I didn’t know it was coming today,” Adjulius said. “I didn’t want to cause a panic.”

“I think you already did, sir,” Prosis said. “One of the quarians accompanying it was shot.”

Captain Jeru’Veenna. Shade had almost forgotten. “Is Captain Veenna alright?” it asked.

“I haven’t gotten word, but I’ll head to Huerta and apologize on behalf of C-Sec, sir.” She turned to Shade. “And I’ll find out how she’s doing.”

Adjulius nodded. “Good idea. Let me know if anything happens.”

She nodded and left the room. Shade stood perfectly still in order to avoid fidgeting.

“So, Shade, how was the trip?”

Small talk. Okay. “Agreeable.”

“Good, that’s good,” Adjulius said. “I’m sorry about the docks, I never meant-”

“I acknowledge your apology,” Shade said, pointedly not accepting it. “When will we begin the interview, Captain Adjulius?”

The captain straightened in his seat. “Actually, Shade, I was reviewing the files you sent me and our correspondance, and I believe the interview wouldn’t do much good. When can you start?”

Involuntarily, Shade’s photoreceptor brightened and its aperture adjusted around it, the plates above shifting in excitement. “I- Thank you, Captain, I’m honored,” it said, joy flowing down every nerve in its body. It forced itself still again, composing itself. “I need to- I need lodging, and I need to be with Captain Veenna and the others until they are settled,” it said at last. It wasn’t obligated to stay with the group - everyone on the ship had their own reasons for coming to the Citadel, and would soon go their separate ways - but it wanted to thank Captain Veenna for allowing it passage, and Shuro for her companionship, at the very least.

“Take all the time you need,” Adjulius said. “Just know that we’re glad to have you.”

“Of course, Captain.”


	5. The Second

"No, I- You have to keep your eyes open, Detective!" Camnion exclaimed, and Haven felt his cheeks warm.

"I can't! It catches me off guard!" he exclaimed right back, throwing a look at Camnion over his shoulder.

"Stop being a baby and shoot the damned target!" Natalie shouted, leaning against the back wall. She’d helped him get into position and taught him the basics - recoil and heat sinks and mass accelerators and _squeeze, don’t pull_ \- then stepped back to let him figure out the rest on his own. That had been over an hour ago. Haven wanted to throw his hands in the air and give up. He was trying, okay?

Haven huffed and turned back to the task at hand. He had a safety visor situated awkwardly over his glasses as he tried again to get the M-3 Predator to cooperate. Maybe he just wasn't _made_ for shooting, because that little recoil shouldn't have made his teeth chatter and his arms ache as much as they did.

He heard Camnion's metal boots on the ground as he approached to activate one of the consoles, bringing the man-shaped target closer to inspect it. Of the 12 shots in the clip, only a handful had hit - one in the shoulder, a couple in an arm, and another in the opposite leg.

"Well, if he was naked and non-biotic, you slowed him down, at least," Camnion said, and Haven bristled at the teasing. Natalie snorted.

"If my arms didn't jump a foot in the air every time I made a shot-" he started to complain hotly, and Camnion honest-to-God laughed at him, dry as it was.

"You think that's tough? Try a Carnifex, or Spirits forbid something a little more automatic," he said, mandibles wide and needle-like teeth exposed in an approximation of an amused smile - though visually similar to his angry face, the arrangement of his other face plates made it clear he was in a fair mood. The fairest he’d been in since Haven had met the turian, actually, and he supposed lording his superior expertise over Haven and revelling in his embarrassment were major contributing factors. Haven pouted. "The Predator doesn't jump, _you're_ jumping. Here, get back in position-" Haven did as instructed, grumbling internally all the while.

"Are you really about to- I thought you wanted no part of this!" he heard Natalie say, and wondered why - that is, until he felt warm metal through his dress shirt, and there were arms, taloned hands holding his own steady. His breath quickened a little at the unexpected proximity, stomach twisting, and how cliché was that? So cliché. Natalie cat-called.

What happened to Natalie teaching him and Camnion standing back? And was that Natalie giggling in the background? Haven couldn't hear over the (so, _so_ cliché) pounding of his heart in his ears.

"Alright, now," Camnion said, and Haven could feel the dual-tones vibrating through everywhere they touched. He suppressed a shiver. "I'll hold you still. Take a deep breath and try again. Remember to keep your eyes open."

Haven's throat was too dry to reply, so he just nodded. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed a little shakily, then opened his eyes to focus. He lined up the pistol as well as he could with the little plus sign in the center of the head and pulled the trigger.

He still jumped a little, and it made Camnion hold him a little tighter for a moment, but it was much better than the full-body jerks he’d subjected himself to before. He didn't realize he'd closed his eyes until he reopened them. His arms were folded against his chest, now, and Camnion's were still holding his wrists, effectively wrapping the comparatively-small human in his arms. He detached himself casually and went back to the console, bringing the target forward again. Natalie whooped between laughs.

Headshot.

"See, it's possible," Camnion said, turning to look at Haven again. The detective was shaking a little. "Detective, are you okay?"

“I- Yeah,” Haven said, voice high, then cleared his throat and repeated himself: “Yeah, yeah I’m cool.”

"Let me randomly decide to envelop you in my arms and let's see how you feel," Natalie said, voice dramatic and faux-sultry, smirking, and Camnion tensed a little, like he hadn't realized what he'd done could be seen as unprofessional. Natalie laughed at him some more.

Haven looked from Camnion to the pistol in his hands, ignoring the cold feeling where the turian had left him. Then he looked at his handiwork, and the surge of- of _power_ that came with the idea that that was a kill shot, that he could have killed a man right then, made him a little scared, to be honest. But a lot more proud of himself.

Haven turned back to Camnion and Natalie with a triumphant smile, ignoring the way she was still poking fun at the turian, attributing the rush of blood and rapid-fire pumping of his heart to his success. "Let's try that again."

The next hour and a half was exponentially more successful than the hour previous, though he wasn’t able to recreate the headshot without Camnion’s, uh, support. The turian closed off a little bit, pointedly keeping his distance, but after a while he began periodically throwing tips at Haven the same as Natalie was. It took a while for Haven to catch on, but they seemed to be having a competition to create the most believable nonsense.

“You have to make sure you keep the-” A bizarre trill and clicking noise. “-calibrated, Detective,” Camnion said, and Haven glanced over his shoulder at him.

 _“What?”_ he asked, and Natalie made a noise like she was choking. He turned around fully, dropping his arms to his sides.

“Haven, listen to him,” she said, doing a terrible job at hiding her grin. “The- uh, the whatever he said is _essential_ to a good shot.”

Camnion repeated the noise, quizzically.

“The translator can’t pick up nonsense words,” Natalie stage-whispered behind her hand.

Haven glared at Camnion. “Are you joking around with me?”

Camnion put his hands up by his shoulders in surrender. “Duran started it with the thing about the invisible target lock-on!”

“Don’t fucking rat me out, man!” Natalie exclaimed, face split in a smile and stomping one foot childishly. “We were in solidarity!”

“You’re both terrible teachers,” Haven said, shaking his head, but he was grinning. “Y’all are gonna get me killed.”

“It’s all in good fun,” Natalie said, and pushed off the wall. “You can put that up now. I’m starving. Let’s go get lunch.”

Haven raised his eyebrows, glancing at Camnion. “The three of us?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she also looked at Camnion. “Unless you don’t wanna come. I can play bodyguard for a couple hours.”

Camnion hesitated, but shook his head. “No, I have to stay with him. Adjulius is ready to jump on any chance to report me again.” He rolled his shoulders and averted his eyes. “Plus, I know a place.”

\--

"That'll be one dextro and two levo menus?" asked the human waitress. Camnion had actually taken them somewhere fairly nice, which Haven found interesting - how often did Camnion go out to eat? The turian nodded to her curtly and Natalie said, "Yup, thanks," and she rushed off to retrieve them.

"This is one of the best restaurants on Bachjret Ward," Camnion said, conversationally. "At least, for dextro food. I wouldn't know about the levo, but I'd assume it's good."

"Sounds cool," Natalie said. "I didn't know you were a restaurant connoisseur. Learn something new everyday."

Haven nodded absently, looking around at the clientele. There were a lot of turians, surprisingly, and even a couple quarians. Haven wondered if he could come out here with Soro'Loss, one day.

"Do you come here often?" Haven asked, then flinched internally at the accidental pickup-line. Neither Camnion nor Duran, surprisingly, seemed to recognize it, though.

"On occasion," he said, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table. "I'm not a great cook. Finding good dextro food is hard, even with the turian presence on the Citadel."

"Well, I mean, you're all in C-Sec," Natalie offered, "How many turians on the Citadel own restaurants?"  

Camnion shrugged, scanning the menu. "Point."

Lunch was actually very good, though Haven had had to ask their waitress and Natalie for advice on what wouldn't be exceptionally jarring for a newcomer. He settled on some sort of varren dish, which still had him pull a face that had Camnion choking on his dextro-alcoholic drink of choice. Natalie full-out laughed at Haven's face when, upon asking the waitress, he learned that varren were pretty much space dogs.

There was a fairly comfortable silence as they ate, until Natalie broke it.

“So what do you guys think of Syllius’s story?”

Both Haven and Camnion both looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean?” Camnion asked.

“The one about the biotics - ‘Zrek and A’nao,’” She shrugged. “I was listening to the recording and- I dunno. Sounded sorta fantastical.”

“You think he made it up?” Haven asked, furrowing his brow. He hadn’t really questioned the story, or even thought to.

Natalie shook her head. “No, just- maybe it was a fairy tale, y’know? Something to lure the Blue Suns to the Citadel.”

“Or just Keniston,” Camnion added, nodding to himself. “That’s... certainly not implausible.”

“I guess,” Haven said, skeptical. “But the way he talked about it sounded like they had a reputation on Omega, and on Illium. Couldn’t we look into who ordered the hit?”

“We can’t access Blue Suns files, even with Keniston’s omni-tool, plus all his correspondences were in some code I can’t make heads or tails of,” she said a little sourly. “Trust me, I was up half the night trying.”

“Could we get into contact with Aria T’Loak?” There had been little information on ‘the pirate queen of Omega’ on the extranet when he’d looked, but maybe with the right connections-

“No one knows where she is, or if she’s alive,” Camnion said. “So probably not.”

Shoot. “I don’t think the Blue Suns agree to hit people who for all intents and purposes don’t exist. They have to have _some_ reason to believe that they do.”

“Could just be local legend,” Natalie said. “Doesn’t make it true.”

“Both alternatives should be considered,” Camnion said. “We have no evidence either way except for Syllius’s word.”

“You’re right,” Haven conceded. “I wish we had more leads, though. Without knowing who hired the Blue Suns, our only suspects are two maybe-imaginary mercs and a bunch of dead ones.”

“And Syllius,” Natalie added, nodding.

“And Syllius,” Haven repeated. “And he doesn’t really seem the type to kill his superior.”

Altogether, they sat and ate and spoke for the better part of two hours. It was... nice. At 13:00, they paid their checks and left.

Without a visible day/night cycle and a reliance on an alien measure of time, Haven felt like his mind was riddled with contradictions. Time seemed to simultaneously race and crawl at a snail’s pace, he wasn’t sure if he was tired or filled with energy, and he felt as though he’d done nothing and _so much_ during the day. It didn’t help his contemplation of the case at all, and he was distracted by anything and everything. Everything was still so new and he felt as though he’d seen so little of it all, much to his vehement disappointment.

Still, it hadn’t been _bad._ It certainly hadn’t been boring.

The wards at night didn’t much differ than the wards during the day, dark and almost unclean feeling, or a little dangerous. Camnion was driving (flying?) him back to his apartment from the station, no further along on the case than they’d been the day before.

Camnion was silent, but much of the tension Haven had assumed would be permanently between them had faded. Haven kept thinking about- about the shooting range, when the turian had practically held him. He wasn’t used to feeling small, and though the turian wasn’t _that_ much taller, the bulky armor and scant centimeters seemed to be enough.

“What is it, Detective?”

Haven startled, cheeks warming. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “I- nothing.”

Camnion frowned. “You were staring,” he stated.

Haven bit his lip. “I was just wondering, uh, about your change in attitude,” he said, only sort of lying. “Yesterday you seemed ready to kill me, but today’s been- um. Nice.”

The turian didn’t look at him, and Haven wondered if he was even going to respond at all. “That was mostly adrenaline,” he said after a long time. “I haven’t been in combat for a- a _long_ time, Detective.” Haven remembered his outburst to Natalie from the day before, confessing his status as a war veteran. Had it been five years? “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Haven nodded quickly. “Of course, of course. I get it.”

Camnion shot him a sideways look. “Did you serve?”

“I- No.”

“Then you don’t get it.”

Haven was quiet for the rest of the ride as an apology, staring out the window and only occasionally sneaking glances at Camnion. He was right - Haven had spent the entire war safe in a bunker, protected by those who _were_ serving, many of which gave their lives doing so.  He hadn’t even lost anyone except _maybe_ Ben, though for all he knew he could have survived. It was too late to look for him now.

They turned a corner and Vatari Towers’s neon sign came into view, holoscreens of idyllic living spaces on either side of the doors.

Camnion made a low noise in his chest. He parked in front of the door.

"See you tomorrow, Camnion," Haven said as he exited the skycar.

"Detective." The turian said simply, then lowered the roof and was gone before Haven got inside the doors.

\--

> _Subject: Potential Candidate_
> 
> _Det. Mai:_  
>  _Attached is a file on Lucien Want, a current student at the academy. They will be by your office tomorrow for an interview._ _  
> _ Capt. Arso Adjulius, Bachjret Ward C-Sec

 

Haven still hadn’t been inside his private office, he realized as he and Camnion entered the Investigations office that morning. It was too secluded, he felt, and he’d instead taken to sitting on top of a desk across from Natalie doing the same, Camnion stood by the door in what Haven privately referred to as guard mode. _This_ morning, though, he passed by his usual perch, unlocked the office door with his omni-tool, and entered.

It was much as he expected - plain and spartan, empty holoscreens and a private terminal on a desk, a pair of seats opposite the desk for guests. He delicately dropped himself into the large silver chair behind the desk and spread his hands on the desk, taking it in with a deep breath. This was his. He was _Head Detective._ Goodness gracious.

“You okay, Detective?” Camnion asked, stood next to the doorway.

“I- Yeah,” Haven said. “It’s still, uh, kind of sinking in.”

Natalie followed them in and leant against the wall opposite Haven’s desk, a datapad in one hand. “We have results from the lab. Lilly- I mean, Dr. Huddy sent them in this morning.”

Haven raised his eyebrows. “She works fast.”

Natalie shrugged. “She doesn’t really have a lot to do, being the only forensic specialist an’ all. Not a lot of dead bodies lately.” She handed over the datapad. “She counted more than _four thousand_ stab wounds.”

Haven winced. The datapad had the exact number - 4,116. “Christ,” he said softly. “Anything else of note?”

She nodded. “Dr. Huddy thinks the victim was in a sort of stasis field for the entirety of the process,” she said. “It would take over an hour to make that many lacerations, but Keniston bled out in just minutes. Something was, uh, holding him together, so to speak, while the killer worked.”

“So the killer is a biotic?”

“And a very powerful one at that,” Natalie said. “To hold a stasis field that strong for so long is nearly impossible. She said the killer is likely an asari, krogan, or even a drell.”

“Supports Syllius’s story,” Camnion said. “Though that doesn’t really help us, if we can’t find Zrek and A’nao.”

“Right,” Haven said, sort of absently, scanning the results one more time. When nothing stood out at him he set it down. “Ideas for what to do now, then?”

“Maybe the number of wounds is significant?” Natalie guessed. “I could run a search connecting it to Keniston?”

Though he wasn’t sure how much useful information she might gain from that, Haven nodded. “That’s something, at least. Go ahead.”

She nodded and left the office - only to turn back around and stick her head back in. “There’s a kid in here,” she stage whispered.

“That must be Want,” Haven said, and at Natalie’s questioning look he continued. “Potential recruit. Send them in.”

Lucien Want was distinctly ambiguous, tall and thin and porcelain pale, some sort of faux-masculine androgynous with a half smile and messy hair. They were in the non-armor C-Sec uniform, high-necked and tight around the chest and stomach with the sleeves rolled halfway up their upper arms. Though the uniform was up to regulation and not obviously altered, it seemed casual and almost unprofessional on them. They must have been in their early twenties or even late teens.

“Lucien Want?” Haven asked, standing and extending a hand. They crossed the office to shake it, not even sparing Camnion a glance.

“Detective Haven Mai,” they said with that half smile, the sort of cocky grin that only comes with youth. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Haven replied, inwardly cringing at the cliché. He cleared his throat and brushed his hands down the front of his jacket, then gestured to the two seats in front of his desk. “Take a seat, Mx. Want.”

They took a seat, leaning back in it casually. “Please, Detective. It’s Lucien.”

Haven frowned. _Too_ casual. “How old are you, Mx. Want?” he asked, keeping to the more formal tone.

Want sat up a little straighter, maybe to look taller. “I’m twenty, sir.”

Haven raised his eyebrows, not exactly surprised. He’d assumed they just _looked_ young, maybe. “That’s awful young to be graduating the academy.”

Their smirk broadened and Haven’s frown deepened. “I’m something of a prodigy. Adjulius sent you my file, right?”

Haven nodded. “Yes, _Captain_ Adjulius did.” He put emphasis on the title Want had left out. “I only just received it last night. I haven’t had the time to go through it in detail.”

Want nodded. “I get it. You’re a busy man.” They sat up further, almost properly. “I’m a master hacker and tech specialist. I was breaking down Hierarchy firewalls for fun when I was thirteen.”

Camnion moved and Haven watched him turn a glare on Want and nearly say something, but he met Haven’s eyes and stopped short.

Want didn’t seem to notice the silent exchange, looking steadfastly at Haven. He pretended to look at the datapad on his desk to avoid the contact. “They never could pin anything on me, though. I realized I might be the only person who can stop people like me, and offered my services to the Alliance, but they didn’t want to hire a freelance hacker, let alone a teenager. So I took the first ship off Earth when the Citadel was moved and was given an exemption by Councilor Lehre so I could enroll in the academy at seventeen.”

“What drew you to Investigations?” Haven asked, glancing up to see that Want had shifted in their seat again, leaning forward slightly with one elbow on an armrest, long legs crossed. He looked back down at the datapad. “Why not put your skills to work for networking? They have a functional division on-”

 _“You,_ Detective,” they interrupted, and Haven finally met their eyes. He fought not to pull a face. “You’re a hero, and- pardon the unprofessionalism, but I like you _much_ more than Officer Farane.” They put a hand flat on Haven’s desk and he sat back in his seat, brow furrowing.

“Back off, Want,” Camnion said dangerously, and after shooting a look to Haven that was surely meant to be _meaningful_ they pulled their hand back. Still, they didn’t look at Camnion.

“I believe I can bring something unique to your division, Detective,” Want continued. “My talents are varied and many.”

Haven almost wanted to roll his eyes. “How well do you work with a team?”

“I play _very_ well with others.”

“That’s enough, Want, you’re done,” Camnion said, voice a little too loud. He practically stomped over to take Want by the arm. They shouted indignantly as they were dragged up from the chair.

“Hey, let me-”

Haven made no move to intervene. “I’ll contact you with my decision within the week,” he said without getting up, offering a polite (if tight) smile. Despite their, uh, tenuous position they grinned at him one last time and Camnion threw them out the door into the greater part of the Investigations office.

The door shut behind them with a hiss and Haven let out a sigh of relief. Camnion stared at the closed door, visibly seething, for a moment before turning back to face Haven.

“They got on your nerves that bad?” Haven asked, grinning, but Camnion just shrugged. Haven’s omni-tool lit up with a- a contact shared notification.

“What is it?” Camnion asked.

“Want’s information, and-” Haven rolled his eyes. “Their personal address. Physical and electronic.”

“Delete it.”

Haven looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”

“Just delete it, Detective.”

Haven couldn’t tell if the turian’s shoulders were tense, or if that was just the armor. “What if I decide to hire them?”

“There will be better candidates,” Camnion said.

“But we need all the help we can-”

“Detective!” His tone was almost _threatening,_ and Haven’s humor faded.

“Camnion, what’s your problem?” he asked, standing and walking around the desk to lean up against the front of it. “Last time I checked, you don’t have a say in what I do with _my_ division.”

Camnion hesitated, mandibles working as if he had something to say. Instead he averted his eyes. “You’re right, I apologize.”

“No, really, what’s the issue?” Haven asked. “Was it the thing about the Hierarchy? Because I think they were exaggerating.”

“There isn’t an issue,” Camnion insisted.

Haven scoffed. “You just _threw_ a kid out of my office. You expect me to believe that that kind of anger was just annoyance?”

“They were disrespectful-”

“They were just flirting, and I had it under control,” Haven said. “Believe it or not, but I’m pretty good looking for a human. This ain’t my first rodeo.” At Camnion’s confused look, Haven sighed. “I mean, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Camnion broke eye contact again. “Fine. I apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology, I want to know what’s-”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mai,” he snapped, and Haven flinched at his volume. “Spirits, drop it already.”

Haven resisted an urge to pout and nodded. “Fine, Christ.” His omni-tool lit up again.

“If it’s the kid-”

“It’s not, relax,” Haven said. It was from Soro’Loss - an invitation to meet up and talk. “Just a friend.”

“I’ve been with you since you stepped off the ship,” Camnion said in disbelief. “When have you had the time to make a friend?” He squinted at Haven suspiciously. “Have you been leaving your apartment at night? Because-”

 _“Relax,_ Camnion. I met him on the ship here,” Haven explained. He smiled, spirits lifted. He put his omni-tool away. “Alright. Anyway. Let’s go talk to Natalie about a corpse.”

\--

"Alright so, here, pull up your omni-tool. Let me get the program set up for you."

Haven did as instructed, leaning back into the couch and holding out his right arm. Soro'Loss grabbed it a little more harshly than he probably needed to. Haven winced as the quarian began typing.

"Gently, Soro," he hissed. Soro looked at him, probably exasperatedly. Somehow his completely covered face was easier to read than Camnion's. Haven could practically hear those glowing eyes rolling behind the helmet. “Maybe we should have done this _before_ we started drinking.” He punctuated this with a sip of his weird alien beer. He was pretty sure it was meant for species a little sturdier than his own, burning like acid in his throat, but he'd already committed to it, so. He persevered.

"Well I'm sorry if I want to help you out," Soro said, and yeah, there was definitely eye-rolling involved. "I've almost got it. That's what I love about tech powers - anybody who wants to take the time can learn 'em. It takes a master engineer like yours truly to be any good, but at least they usually auto-aim, so you'll be fine."

It was Haven's turn to roll his eyes. "I know how they work. I used to want to be an engineer and played around with the combat stuff. I’m not a master engineer, sure, but at least _pretend_ to, like... support me.”

Soro scoffed. "If supporting you includes kissing your ass, leave me out." He closed the menu he'd been working on. "Alright, there you go. Now you've just got to set a gesture, or a button, or something. Mine's like this-" He flicked his wrist and made a fist, and a burst of blue sparks appeared next to Haven's kitchen table, making the human jump a little, startled.

Haven mimicked the gesture after indicating he wanted to record it to his omni-tool. Then again, and- there went the vidscreen.

"Christ! Is that gonna be okay?" He jumped up to survey the damage. Other than being a little warm, it seemed fine.

"Yeah, overload is usually pretty ineffective on most things that aren't trying to kill you," Soro said. "Though I saw a guy blow up an Avina terminal once. On accident, of course. That was exciting."

Haven huffed a laugh, trying not to aim toward anything electronic. The burst appeared closer to where Soro's had, by the table. "This is kinda cool. Can you teach me anything else?"

Soro paused, then shook his head. "Maybe find some more low-profile stuff. Drones, or a cloak. It's probably best you don't learn the others that I know. Last thing you need is to set the building on fire or flash-freeze the bodyguard. Which reminds me - how is the bodyguard situation, anyway?"

Haven shrugged. "It's going good, I think. He doesn’t seem to hate me nearly as much, now."

“That’s good.” Soro was quiet for a while. Hesitant? “Did you hear about the quarian ship that boarded two days ago?”

Haven frowned. He hadn’t heard anything about that. “I’ve been busy with my current case. What happened?”

“Lifeship came from Rannoch,” Soro said. “I can’t imagine _why_ they left the homeworld, but they brought a geth with them. They didn’t adequately inform C-Sec, and when they saw it a couple guards on the docs opened fire.”

“Oh my God,” Haven said. “I’m-”

“The captain of the ship is in the hospital ‘cause she was shot, and a little girl’s suit was ruptured, so she’s sick. The geth was detained by C-Sec but no one’s seen it since,” Soro continued. “People are already suspecting that it’s, I dunno, sneaking around and sabotaging systems, or something.”

“What C-Sec? What ward was this on?”

“This one,” Soro replied. “Bachjret.”

Haven frowned. Why hadn’t he heard anything? Or- he was _at_ C-Sec that day interviewing Decter Syllius. And he hadn’t seen anything?

Soro picked up his blue glass bottle of quarian beer and fastened the air-tight straw to what he called the “emergency induction port” on the front of his mask. He’d brought a case of them with him from Tayseri Ward, and offered Haven one - it was weirdly pure tasting, like water and bleach and sterile hospital air, but Soro seemed to like it well enough. “Part of me’s more worried about the geth than the others. I have no doubt that they’ll get better, but that geth’s gonna get nothing but shit the entire time it’s on the Citadel.”

“What’s it here for?” What kind of business would a geth have on the Citadel that would require its physical presence? If its welcome had been any indication, the station wasn't exactly safe for it.

Soro shrugged. “No idea, but it spent four months on a lifeship to get here, same as the rest of them. I hope it finds what it’s looking for.”

\--

Two days later, there was another victim.

The body was discovered by a construction crew on Tayseri Ward in an abandoned building. Truthfully, _most_ of Tayseri was adandoned, at least by the sane or financially stable. Some less-than-fortunates or less-than-desirables had been staying there for years, hiding in the rubble, and thriving without the C-Sec presence that was prevalent on the other four wards. The ward had never fully recovered from Sovereign’s attack and was already in a sorry state when the station had crash landed on Earth.

The victim was a woman without any identification, dark haired and mangled beyond recognition and covered in blood, same as Keniston. The C-Sec officers that had been called in from neighboring Zakera Ward had assumed that the building she'd been found in was where she'd been living, if the scattered food garbage and ratty blankets were anything to go by. Despite this state of apparent misfortune, there was a well-maintained M-7 Lancer assault rifle found behind some crates with the initials 'K.P.' carved into the side.

Haven was a little nervous at the sight of the gun, but not as much as he would have been before he started going to the shooting range. It was becoming a regular thing, heading down with Natalie and Camnion whenever they had a free moment to practice.

There was a similar air to the place as though nothing had happened as there had been at Keniston’s Bachjret apartment, aside from the stink of old blood and decaying flesh. No signs of struggle, nothing misplaced or thrown about. No blood, no hair, no fingerprints - no trace of the killer but for a couple thousand little wounds and an old fashioned pocketknife with the same 'K.P.' carved into the handle lying out in the open, waiting to be discovered.

"Get the body to Dr. Huddy on Bachjret," Haven said, nausea lessening when all he had to look at was a pool of blood. The Enforcement officers had taken up the body and were awaiting his word. "See if she can find anything to identify it. And ask her to count the wounds."

The officers with the stretcher nodded out of sync and left. Only two remained in the room with Haven and Natalie while they half-heartedly searched the filthy room for anything, _anything_ that could give them a lead. There was nothing.

"Grab the knife and rifle, too," he said to the remaining officers. "Follow the others, and call in someone to clean this up." He gestured at the blood without looking at it. "We're done here."

Haven had barely been there a week and already he was completely out of his comfort zone, work-wise. Not just a murder, but a possible _serial killer._

Camnion easily matched pace with Haven and Natalie when they exited. He’d elected not to come inside with them, instead standing watch outside. They didn't speak, just walked. They'd parked a ways away from the apartment out of necessity; there was no place nearby that was flat enough to land safely on.

Their walk took them through a small alleyway where a great swath of the ceiling was gone, exposing the darkened interior to the starlit sky, a view of ruined buildings backlit by Widow and, in places, cast in the Presidium’s shadow. It was a breath of fresh air, as the air filtration in this part of the ward was without power. The air inside was stuffy, too-warm and charged with electricity that had Haven’s hair standing on end.

"Is your fringe supposed to do that?" Camnion asked lowly.

"It's the electricity," Haven explained, "And it's my _hair_ , not a fringe. If I had my sleeves rolled up, you'd see the same thing happening on my arms."

"It's the worst, is what it is," Natalie grumbled. Her usually sleek ponytail resembled a fox’s tail. "This whole 'electricity in the air' thing is probably really unsafe."

"It's Tayseri Ward, the whole damn thing's unsafe," Camnion replied in kind, and she shrugged an agreement.

"What about the plastic on your face?" he asked, again, gesturing to Haven's glasses. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”

"They’re glasses," Haven said. "And I need them to see."

"I thought gene therapy had fixed that for most of us," Natalie said.

"My family doesn't believe in gene therapy," he replied. "It’s too late to fix without surgery, and I don’t really fancy anyone messing around with my eyes.”

"How do you just 'not believe' in gene therapy?" Natalie asked, incredulous. Haven shrugged. He didn’t really get it either.

"What if they break? Or you lose them?" Camnion actually sounded curious. Something about that warmed Haven.

"I have contacts, if I need them," he replied. "And another pair. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere blind." He shrugged. “Besides, I like them.”

“Well, they suit you,” Natalie said. “Lilly loves old Earth stuff like that.”

“Lilly?”

“Dr. Huddy,” Natalie said. “We’re roommates. Went to the academy together. Speaking of, we should head by the lab. You still haven’t met her, and if this is a serial killer, you two are going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“That’s a great idea,” Haven said. “Let’s do that.”

\--

The lab was a less-than-modest affair, all gleaming metal and glass and kinetic barriers and smooth white plastic. Haven followed Natalie and three of the officers from Zakera Ward inside while they pushed along the levitating stretcher and their covered package. One of the scientists, a black woman with a short afro and goggles on, set down the datapad she'd been reading and came over immediately.

"Hey, Natalie! What's the occasion?" she asked, looking at the package and smiling at Natalie before settling her eyes on Haven. She had an English accent.

"Another victim," he said simply. The scientist folded over part of the covering while the officers set the body on an empty autopsy table, exposing the victim's head and shoulders.

"Same M.O. as that Keniston bloke?” Haven nodded. “Where did you find him?" she asked, pulling on gloves.

"Tayseri Ward," Natalie said, and the woman nodded absently. “Probably homeless.”

"A lot of lacerations again," she said quietly. "Very densely placed. Dead a day and a half, by the dried blood and the smell. Do we have a weapon?" One of the officers passed her the pocket knife, in a small case made of a metal frame and kinetic barriers. "Sweet, thanks." She deactivated them and grabbed the knife gently, one finger on each end. Haven wasn't sure that was the _safest_ way to hold a knife, per se, but it kept unnecessary smudges out of the equation, at least.

"So, what's your name, new guy?" she asked, then specified: "Tall, cute, and Asian."

Haven made a face at the blunt (though, admittedly, flattering) description. "Detective Haven Mai. I'm the new Head of Investigations."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, Natalie's new boss! Nice to meet you, Haven." She set the knife down and brushed her hands off on the pants she wore under her lab coat, offering one hand to Haven. He took it hesitantly. "I'm Dr. Lillian Huddy, but you can call me Lilly. I'm a friend of Natalie's. This isn't my lab, but I'm resident forensics expert, so it seems like we're going to be seeing a lot of each other."

"Whose lab is it?" Haven asked, and when Dr. Huddy looked away to point he wiped his hand on his own pants. Better safe than sorry.

"The asari at the end, Dr. Edova," she explained. The violet-skinned asari in question was bent over a microscope, and didn't look over as she was introduced. "We're one of two functioning C-Sec labs up right now, and the only one on Bachjret. There's only the three of us that work here - the last of which is Dr. Vaezon, our perpetually absent salarian - but they do chemicals and experiments and I get to play with dead things, so I think it's a win-win." She was still smiling, though now a little mischievously. Haven couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but offered a small grin in return anyway.

"So, Detective," she continued, dropping the joking demeanor only slightly. Haven guessed that's just how she is. "What do you need me to do with this one beyond the usual?"

Haven shook his head. "Nothing different. Count lacerations, run the usual scans. See if you can identify her.”

Dr. Huddy nodded, businesslike. "Can do. I'll contact Natalie with the results as soon as I can."

Camnion came in from where he'd been waiting by the door, assault rifle slung casually across his front. That seemed to be his default recently, and Haven wondered why he even had the magnetic holster.

"Thanks for everything, Doctor,” Haven said. “Let us know when you're done, and I'll let you know if I find more, uh, dead things for you to play with." Camnion made a face at him, but Natalie and Dr. Huddy laughed, the latter giving him him a thumbs up, not looking away from where she was looking at the knife under a microscope.


	6. Avengers

There was... so much to take in.

All the sound blended together into a formless roar, somber murmuring and sobbing and whispering and the occasional anguished yell, sometimes a name, sometimes a wordless plea for aid. Most of the movement had died down once C-Sec had showed up and now most onlookers were still, punctuated by the occasional Enforcement officer taking a quiet statement or an EMT tending to someone injured, or moving a body.

 

>   
>  _SUBJECT: Urgent_
> 
> _Det. Mai:_  
>  _There has been a bombing at the human embassy on the Presidium. As your division is the only Investigations division on the station, your presence has been requested._  
>  _Capt. Arso Adjulius, Bachjret Ward C-Sec_  
> 

Haven hadn’t been sure what to expect, hadn’t known how to prepare, and- and he _ached_ from seeing all the death. He wasn’t sure how many had died, but within and without the radius of the blast - several meters of white floor and walls blackened and burnt - was blood in shades of red, green, violet, like an impressionist painting of a bouquet, almost beautiful but- but not quite.

“Ask them how many dead and injured,” he said to no one in particular and Natalie nodded, directing herself toward the nearest C-Sec officer on the scene.

There wasn’t a lot to scan. Any evidence inside the blast radius had surely been reduced to ash and smoke. All he’d be able to work off of would be people’s statements and whatever security footage he’d be allowed access to.

“Eighteen casualties,” Natalie said, metal footfalls announcing her return. “Eleven dead, seven injured. Various species, but mostly humans.”

“Christ,” Haven breathed. “Do we- Are there any suspects? Any leads?”

“I overheard someone mention a drone,” Camnion said, and Haven jumped a little. He’d forgotten the turian was there. “Blast looks five or six meters in diameter.”

“You think somebody detonated a combat drone?!” Haven said, almost incredulously. It _fit_ though. It would be easy enough to do - hell, he could do it himself, if he wanted, since Soro had taught him to overload. “It would take a couple seconds to trigger, but- that would work.”

“Plus, it would leave no trace and could be detonated from a distance,” Camnion added. “Like from the elevator, or across the room. Safely out of the blast zone.”

“They could be here,” Natalie said softly. “Or halfway across the station. How-”

“Detective Mai!”

An armored officer jogged over, a pale lavender asari with stark, dark navy markings on her cheeks and jaw, omni-tool fading on her wrist. She looked like she was perhaps as bothered as Haven was, just better at hiding it. There was a shine to her eyes that beset the stern clench of her jaw.

“Yes?”

“Your Councilor wants to see you,” she said, gesturing past the crowd to a hallway and staircase that led off the main area. “She’s in her office back there.”

Haven frowned. “Did she say why?”

The asari shook her head. Haven sighed, then gestured for Natalie and Camnion to follow him up the stairs, though he knew they would anyway.

The human Councilor’s office was bigger than any office really needed to be, with broad back windows showing off a view of the Presidium’s bright faux-sunlight and skycars whizzing by. There was a noticeable congregation of blue C-Sec shuttles nearby.

Councilor Lehre was at her desk, standing behind her empty seat and accompanied by a human officer, who left at a gesture from Lehre herself, leaving her alone with Haven and the others. Once again, presented with her commanding presence, Haven felt an urge to bow. Instead, he approached and received her nod of acknowledgement. There was a large holographic screen in front of her that she didn’t look away from, a mirror image of a pale blue salarian visible through the back.

“You wanted to see me, Councilor?” Haven said, straightening his shoulders. He didn’t straighten too much, though, an impulse to seem smaller around a powerful authority figure.

Her dark eyes found his, a stiff frown on her lips. The screen shrank to settle itself back into the frame of her terminal. “Detective. What happened here today was an act of terrorism against humanity and its allies.”

Straight to business. “What?” Natalie gasped, earning a sharp look from the Councilor, but nothing more.

“I- I’d guessed as much,” Haven admitted, though he’d been hoping- well. That that wasn’t the case. “The Embassy isn’t exactly a prime target for a random act of violence. Not public enough, not populous enough, too heavily guarded.”

Lehre nodded her agreement. “I’ve just received this vid message from a Bilik Nozu,” she continued, nodding toward the holoscreen. “She is claiming responsibility in the name of a salarian anti-human group she calls the Suppressors.”

“Salarians have anti-human groups?” Camnion asked, sounding as surprised as Haven felt.

“Just the one, that I’m aware of,” Lehre said. “They’re only a couple years old. They seem to be particularly upset about the hand humanity had in curing the genophage and, in her words, ‘bringing about the now-inevitable Second Krogan Rebellions.’”

“The only hand humanity had in that was Commander Shepard, though,” Haven said. “Surely one human - and a Spectre working with the Council, no less - doesn’t represent all of humanity.”

“I never said she had a point,” Lehre said, something like hard annoyance edging into her tone. “Her group sees all humankind as implicit. I suppose this petty act of terrorism is meant to be a punishment. Judging by the small impact and lack of an actual, _important_ target, I don’t doubt this is the first of many.”

“I- Pardon my tone, Councilor, but eleven people are _dead,”_ Haven said, frowning ever deeper. “That’s not a small-”

“Detective, you cannot get emotional over this,” Lehre interrupted, staring him down. “I understand that any loss of life is too much, but eleven isn’t dozens. It isn’t hundreds, or thousands. How can you expect to think logically when you cannot be objective?”

“Councilor-”

“I will forward Nozu’s message to your omni-tool,” Lehre said icily. “She’s given herself up for questioning. I have already arranged for her pickup and transport to your office for interrogation.” The Councilor finally took her seat. “You may leave now, Detective Mai. Officers.”

\--

Bilik Nozu was unique among salarians. Her pale blue coloration and nearly colorless irises were eerie and ghostlike, as was her thin smile and comfortable, slow manner. She spoke evenly and unhurriedly, with none of the almost hyperactive twitchiness that seemed inherent to her species. On top of this, and perhaps most damning of all, was her ability to hold a grudge. For a people with photographic memories, salarians’ rapid metabolism and short lives weren’t conducive to prolonged feelings of any sort.

Still, Nozu managed to defy this and was _very_ upset, and had been for years.

“I would rather not speak with you, Detective,” she said, reclining as much as the stiff chair allowed.

“You submitted yourself for interrogation, Ms. Nozu,” Haven said. He grew more frustrated every minute he spent in her company. “How many are in your organization?” Another smug grin. Haven wanted to flip over the table in her face. “If you won’t cooperate-”

“You’ll bully it out of me?” she asked, almost amused. “You humans are so bull-headed. You can’t get everything you want by sheer force of will, Haven.”

“That’s _Detective Mai_ to you,” Haven snapped. “I won’t be baited, Ms. Nozu. If you won’t cooperate, I’ll have you detained until you decide to talk. I have more important things to do than stare at you.”

“Don’t you have any non-human officers? I’d be much more willing to cooperate with-”

“You’re stuck with me,” Haven said.

Nozu’s eyes widened in a motion like raising eyebrows. Skeptical. “What about the turian?” She nodded toward Camnion, stood by the door with his assault rifle slung over his front.

Camnion shifted his weight, maybe nervously - Haven could hear his armor move but didn’t look away from Nozu. “Officer Camnion is my bodyguard,” he said. “Not a member of Investigations.”

“I would still rather speak to him,” Nozu said. “I know you will never listen to me if I explain myself.”

“What is there to explain?” Haven asked. “You and your organization are taking illegal, violent actions against another species. I know hate groups, Ms. Nozu, and your ‘Suppressors’ fit the bill. You can hide behind explanations all you like, but the fact of the matter is that you’re xenophobic and irrational.”

“Detective, this is _exactly_ what I meant,” she said with a sigh. “Here you are, labelling us as racists without trying to understand. Humanity loves to play the victim, all while bullying your way into the limelight. Do you know how many species have been seeking spots on the Council? And you stepped over them and took the position in less than thirty years?” She scoffed. “Selfish. Anthropocentric. _Narcissistic._ How many worlds were lost during the War, while you persuaded entire armies to abandon their homes to save your Earth?”

Haven opened his mouth to retort, but she wasn’t done. “Khar’shan, Palaven, Thessia, Dekuuna, dozens of colony worlds.” She addressed Camnion. “Nearly every major population center on Palaven was destroyed. How many did you lose in the War?” Haven glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Camnion clenching his jaw and averting his eyes.  “Dalatrass Linron was right to retract salarian support after that damned genophage cure!” Nozu continued, glaring at Haven once more. “The galaxy now must suffer through a second Krogan Rebellions, and humanity has gained _no_ punishment. Commander Shepard was _rewarded_ for damning us all!”

“So you’re, what? Vigilantes?”

“We’re _avengers.”_

Haven pushed off the table and turned around, breathing heavily through his nose. He ran his hands through his hair, pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, resisting an urge to growl in the back of his throat. Camnion pointedly avoided his eyes when Haven looked at him.

He waited a long, silent moment. Nozu was panting a little, and had sat forward in her seat during her outburst. Haven heard her sit back, breath evening out.

“Camnion,” he said at last. “Take her to holding. I’m done for now.”

Camnion made a face like he had something to say, then shook his head as if to clear it. He did as he was told.

Alone in the interrogation chamber, Haven dropped himself into the seat opposite where Nozu had been sitting. Of all the things he’d expected upon taking this position, anti-human terrorists hadn’t been high on the list. He’d expected- he hadn’t really expected much for the first couple weeks, or even months, let alone a serial killer on the second day and terrorism within a couple weeks. They still had no leads on the killer, no connections between Keniston and the yet-unidentified second victim, no new information on Zrek and A’nao’s _existence -_ and now with Nozu uncooperative, Haven was at a loss for what to do next.

Several minutes later, Camnion returned. He sighed, relieved, when he saw Haven. “I thought you would’ve gone up to the office, Detective.”

Haven blinked up at him, blankly, then stood. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About what Nozu said?”

Haven shook his head. “No, she just wants a scapegoat. The genophage was questionable at best anyway, and it would be a human rights- I mean, sentient rights issue if no one ever did something about it.” He shrugged. “And the other stuff was short sighted. If the Battle for Earth hadn’t happened the way it did, we would all be dead.”

Camnion frowned, keeping pace as Haven left the room and started for the elevator. “You don’t think she had any points?”

“No, I don’t.” Haven shot him a look. “Did you?”

Camnion set his jaw. “Humans have earned the reputation you have for a reason. As have the krogan.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Things were peaceful before you entered the picture. The genophage kept it that way.” His tone was flippant, diplomatic. They stepped into the elevator and the doors hissed shut. “Your introduction to galactic civilization was violent and you never slowed down.”

“That sounds like some kind of Hierarchy propaganda,” Haven said. “Is that why you didn’t want to be my bodyguard? You don’t like humans?”

“I don’t have a problem with humans, but you have to admit you-”

“The turians unleashed a sterility plague on an entire species,” Haven interrupted. “The turians attacked humans for breaking a law we didn’t know existed.  They _instigated_ that violent introduction to the galaxy. The turians targeted colonies and killed hundreds of civilians because they decided to shoot first, and ask questions never. But I’m not going to hold that against you or any other turian, and I’m sure as hell not going to blow up an embassy.”

“I’m not saying what Nozu did was _right,”_ Camnion said, and Haven rolled his eyes.

“But you’re defending her,” Haven said. “What happened today was indefensible. There is no good excuse for murder.”

Camnion exhaled hard out his nose and adjusted his grip on his rifle, but didn’t reply.


	7. Interception

“But  _ Shaaade! _ I’ll miss you!”

“I will miss you as well, Shuro,” Shade said, on its knees at the small Creator’s side. “You were a great companion and friend.”

Shuro crossed her arms, kicking her legs back and forth. She was sat on the edge of her hospital bed in Huerta Memorial Hospital, in the room she’d been sharing with her worried brother and Shade for the past week. Though she had seemed fine immediately after her suit rupture at the docs, she had rapidly developed a fever and had been in bed sick up until the evening previous. “Why can’t you stay with me and Kas?”

“Shade didn’t come to the Citadel to spend all its time babysitting, Shuro,” Kas said. “It has stuff to do. And what would it do while you’re at school?”

“I dunno,” Shuro admitted. “But I still don’t want you to go. All of my other friends are back home!”

“I am one hundred percent sure you will make friends before you know it,” Shade said, reaching out for Shuro’s hands. She unfolded her arms and took hold, gripping hard at one thick metal digit on each hand.

“If you can make friends with a geth, I’m pretty sure you can win anyone over,” Kas agreed. He was engrossed in his omni-tool, and winced. “You picked a hell of a first day, Shade.”

“What do you mean?” It was already checking news outlets as it spoke, and-

“Someone bombed an embassy,” Kas said. “Doesn’t say which, just that people should avoid-”

“The human embassy,” Shade said, sifting through the files and notices that it could now access as an Investigations Officer. “Detective Mai is on scene.”

“Isn’t that the human with the weird visor? The one who you work for?”

“They’re corrective lenses, Kas. He needs them to see,” Shade said as a sort of confirmation. It paused, looking at Shuro. She’d gone silent, still kicking but weakly, visor bowed in a gesture Shade knew to be a pout. It faked a put-upon sigh, synthesized breathing noises only slightly tinny. “I suppose I should wait until he’s finished, to leave.”

Shuro brightened. “So you’ll stay a little longer?”

Shade nodded. “I have to say goodbye to the others. When I get back, would you like to play Shattered Eezo?”

It was an optical illusion, Shade knew, but the glow of Shuro’s eyes seemed to intensify behind her visor. “Yes! Yes I’ll get it ready!” She dropped its hands and was on her omni-tool in an instant, giving Shade the opening to leave the room.

Huerta memorial was relatively quiet on the higher floors, which was where Captain Veenna and Shuro had been moved after the first day. There weren’t as many windows as in the main lobby, only adding to the synthetic stillness. It was fairly early in the morning, but late enough that most of the nurses and doctors had finished their morning duties and had secluded themselves elsewhere, leaving patients alone.

Jeru’Veenna, Vaetor’Xozh, and the Naras were the only Creators still around. Most of the others had left during the first couple days, unable to afford any wasted time. Shuro was fine and Veenna really only needed a dose of medi-gel and a couple days on antibiotics after her suit rupture. When Shade entered her room, Vaetor was fast asleep in a chair by the door and Veenna was on her omni-tool, lying on the hospital bed with her ankles crossed. She looked fine, and only winced a little when she jostled her side.

“Hello, Shade,” she said without looking up. “Did you hear about the embassy?”

It nodded. “Kas’Nara told me. It was the human embassy.”

“Keelah,” she breathed. “You know this because of your C-Sec thing?” Shade nodded again. “When do you start that, exactly? You already met up with that C-Sec Captain, right?”

“I met with Captain Adjulius the day we arrived,” it confirmed. “I am to start today; however, my superior is on scene at the bombing. I intend to wait until he is finished to introduce myself.”

Veenna nodded. “Well, good luck with that. I suppose you’re here to say goodbye?”

“I am,” it said. “And to thank you for allowing me passage on the Faram, and to apologize for- for causing you injury.”

“Why? You didn’t hurt me.”

“But-”

“If I blame anyone, I blame Vaetor for not listening to us,” she said, and Shade could hear her smile. “And I’m not going to blame him, so I’m not going to blame you. His heart was in the right place, if his execution was less than thoughtful. Besides, I’m better now.”

There would be no arguing with her, it seemed. “Okay,” it said. “Is there anything you need?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be okay. Go spend time with the Naras. Shuro’s gonna miss you like a limb.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get out of my room and let me rest, Shade,” Veenna said firmly, and it nodded before following the order.

\--

When Shade had gained consciousness the first time, it had been piloting a small fighter over Rannoch. Its ship had been- a gaping hole had been torn in the side, the engine stuttering to a stop and leaving it spinning. The limited consensus in its unit had been preparing to upload its programs to the nearest functional database on Rannoch when the Old Machines’ code GMIU 1183-5e09 “LEGION” was uploading reached its platform.

The first real emotion Shade felt was panic.

It had jumped, holding too-tight to the controls while it span out of control. Quiet, panicked stuttering noises left its speakers and it- it didn’t scream, it had never tried to speak with this platform because before it hadn’t had the  _ capacity  _ to, with just over a hundred programs but now that was more than enough and it managed to emit static. A thousand similarly confused voices chorused in its head, both from programs within its trooper platform and without, their newfound sentience as frightening as it was startling.

It did eventually get enough of itself together to upload to Rannoch and it and its platform-mates had gone separate ways, uploading to spare platforms or waiting in databases for more to be built. Each individual program would need a platform, now, and with hundreds in each current platform and millions more in various databases, that process would take a long time. Shade - then nameless and platformless - had quickly uploaded to the Hunter unit GMIU 709-6. It would be several months before it took on the unit designation “SHADE” and for now it would grow used to the quiet individuality of having a self.

Now, it felt much like it had then.

The Investigations office was empty and Shade was, in a word, panicking. Detective Mai  _ should  _ be in the building, it knew, but for all its scans it couldn’t differentiate which human heat signature in the floors above and below was his. It stood outside the office for a long time, stock still to keep from fidgeting (which, it had learned, was an intimidating habit -  though it preferred it to looking nervous, so it persisted), but no one showed up for several minutes.

Then there was a shout and the cocking of a submachine gun, and its shoulders sagged in relief. At least it wasn’t alone.

“Wh-what the hell!” the human woman shouted, glaring it down from the end of the hall.

Shade turned to her, analysing her face - Officer Natalie Duran of the Investigations Division, it discovered upon running it through the employee database - and cocking its head to the side. “Excuse me?”

Duran’s eyes widened. “I- You’re talking?”

“Yes.” It glanced at the door. “I am Officer Shade. I have been assigned to the Investigations Division under Detective Haven Mai.”

She stared for a moment longer, then shook her head and put her M-12 Tempest away. “Right. I heard about there being a geth on the ward. I didn’t know we’d be colleagues.” She approached and held out a hand that shook minutely, face flushed. “Officer Natalie Duran. Nice to meet you, Shade.”

The plates above its photorecepter shifted, its aperture adjusting happily. “Thank you, Officer. I was worried for a moment that we may have had a problem.”

Duran shrugged, turning to open the door. “Yeah, I- Sorry. Fear reflex. Didn’t expect a big scary robot to greet me. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken.” The door hissed open and Shade followed her inside. The office was bare of decoration and seemed almost unused. “Where is Detective Mai?”

“Haven’s interviewing a suspect downstairs,”she said, sitting down at the only desk with a powered-on terminal. She began typing what seemed to be a report. “There was a terrorist attack in the human embassy this morning.”

“I heard about the bombing,” Shade said, standing so as to have a clear view of the door and Duran’s desk. It wasn’t sure where to stand. “How do we know it was orchestrated by terrorists?”

“A Salarian anti-human organization has claimed responsibility,” she said. “They’re pissed about Commander Shepard helping cure the genophage, I guess. You can ask Haven about it when he gets here.”

Shade nodded, and Duran turned her entire focus onto her work, the room lapsing into silence. She hadn’t directed Shade on where to stand so it stayed where it was, joints locked. It wondered how long the interview may take, and if Detective Mai would have a similarly adverse reaction to its presence. Captain Adjulius had assured it that he had given the Detective plenty of warning to its presence, but it still found it in itself to worry.

> _ < -ucking asshole!> _

Shade startled, and for an instant it stared at Duran, aperture tightening in a squint but- but she didn’t move. She hadn’t spoken.

> _ <What’d she do?> _
> 
> _ <She fucking- Hey, Thaanis, keep your fucking varren bitch on a leash!> _

Shade stiffened back up, straightening out. Oh, no, it had- it had intercepted a private communication.  _ Again.  _ It thought it had fixed that- but, there it was, two voices in its head. Something about the faulty antennae on the older Hunter units made the integrated comm unstable - hence why they’d been phased out and replaced with the newer, sleeker model - and since it had taken the thing up it had been intercepting private comms almost constantly on Rannoch. At first it hadn’t minded, and more than once it had been so intrigued by what it heard that it had used its cloak to eavesdrop non-electronic communications. Of course it had gotten caught eventually, and nearly had its platform taken away entirely as a reprimand, so it had given up the practice and had done everything in its power to prevent the accidental interceptions from happening. Except, apparently, it hadn’t done enough.

> _ <What the hell was that, T’ersava?> _
> 
> _ <Thaanis’s fucking bondmate warped my goddess-damned barrier in the waiting room! I was tryin’ to watch the match and she scared the shit out of me.> _
> 
> _ <Why didn’t you do something?> _
> 
> _ <Have you ever  _ met _ Thaanis? > _
> 
> _ <No, I haven’t had the pleasure.> _
> 
> _ <You know she’s as ruthless as we come.> _
> 
> _ <Like you’re one to talk.> _
> 
> _ <Laugh it up, Derricott. Her bondmate’s three times my size and, from that warp, the strongest krogan biotic I’ve ever seen.> _
> 
> _ <What’s his name?> _
> 
> _ <She’s a female, actually, and I dunno her name. Thaanis just calls her some stupid pet name. Like when you humans call each other ‘love,’ except it’s in some old Thessian dialect.> _
> 
> _ <Gross.> _
> 
> _ <Honestly!> _

Shade resisted an urge to conduct an extranet search on all the names - T’ersava, Derricott, Thaanis - and hoped the conversation would end before the Detective arrived. It heard the comm as clearly as if the two strangers were in the room with it.

> _ <After this I’ll come down and we can go a couple rounds. I wanna see this krogan, now.> _
> 
> _ <How much longer will you be?> _
> 
> _ <Beats me. The volus is an hour late already. If only my dearest commander was here to relieve me of duty- > _
> 
> _ <Shut up and get down here. You should’a said something earlier. ‘S that why you called?> _
> 
> _ <I didn’t call to listen to you bitch about Thaanis, T’ersava. I’ll be there in an hour. Gotta get my other armor.> _
> 
> _ <Thaanis doesn’t bother.> _
> 
> _ <I’m not risking it. I’m not  _ that _ reckless. See you. > _
> 
> _ <See you.> _

Shade sagged as the comm cut out at last, glad it hadn’t overheard anything pressing. And right on time, too, as it noticed the elevator stopping and depositing its two heat signatures, one human and one turian. They were silent down the hall and upon opening the door.

Detective Haven Mai was tall for a human, not far off from his turian companion’s height, with black plastic-framed corrective lenses and black hair that was cut short and stuck straight up in some places. He was dressed in a very old-fashioned style, early twenty-first century business attire with a medium gray suit and a white shirt undone at the collar, and without the typical tie. Shade found this peculiar - Mai didn’t look like he belonged on the Citadel, or off Earth at all. If  _ Shade  _ had noticed, no doubt he stuck out amongst his fellow organics, especially humans. His pupils were blown wide when he saw Shade, and rimmed with dark brown, then again with white, not unlike the asari. Shade had never personally seen a human this close up before.

“I- Hello,” Mai said, staring up at Shade. Behind him the turian - Officer Laius Camnion - reached for his M-8 Avenger, only to stop when Mai’s hand reached out toward him in a gesture of peace. “I completely forgot you were coming today. Officer Shade, was it?”

“Yes.” Shade straightened out. “It is an honor to meet you, Detective Mai.” It held out its hand and Mai almost didn’t hesitate in taking it.

“What the hell is that, Mai?” Camnion said, more subharmonics than primary vocals, as if to make it so Shade couldn’t hear him.

“It’s our newest addition,” Mai said. “Captain Adjulius assigned it here.”

“I thought you had to interview recruits,” Camnion hissed. “What if it’s-?”

“I am no danger to anyone,” Shade interrupted. It decided it must download and integrate a program to add emotional inflections to its voice - it didn’t sound nearly as annoyed as it felt. “I have been in communication with Captain Adjulius for several weeks, both before and during my trip from Rannoch. Detective Mai must have decided that the Captain’s word was enough.”

“I did,” Mai said. “And after what happened with the Want kid, I’m not letting you in during interviews anyway, Camnion.”

Camnion seemed to flare up, raising his voice. “They were-”

“Don’t start!” Duran snapped, glancing up from her work for just a moment to shoot Camnion a sharp look.

He clenched his jaw, one mandible twitching as if he were to continue speaking, but instead he huffed and settled back, fire dimming.

Mai rolled his eyes, then addressed Shade. “I, for one, am excited to work with you, Officer Shade.”

“And I you, Detective.” Camnion was watching it with plain distrust. It pretended not to notice. “Is there anything you need me to do?”

“I don’t think so,” Mai said after a moment of thought. “I need to write a report on the interrogation. Natalie can debrief you on our other cases.”

“Of course.”

\--

Shade felt no need to train its aim in any way, and it thought Mai’s insistence that it join him and Camnion in the shooting range was unnecessary, but it followed them down the elevator nonetheless. It drew its M-8 Avenger and got into position, waiting for Mai to don his safety gear to unleash a broad spray of projectiles toward the middle-distant targets. Mai took much longer to get started and Shade noted his quickened heartbeat and purposefully slowed, careful breaths.

“You’re inexperienced,” it observed aloud, and Mai shot it a look, cheeks warming.

“I- Yeah,” he said simply. “Never used a gun before leaving Earth.”

“Understandable.” Shade reloaded and fired again, this time in a series of shorter, more controlled bursts. The accuracy of its shots improved. “Human civilians on Earth usually do not have a need for firearms.”

“I liked not needing firearms,” Mai admitted, brow furrowing slightly as he watched Shade fire with automatic precision. “I considered myself something of a pacifist.”

“A noble ideology,” Shade said. “But one that is-”

“Unrealistic out here, I know,” Mai said, presumably referring to ‘away from Earth’ with the phrase ‘out here.’ “Natalie said the same thing. This was her idea.” He finally steeled himself and took a series of shots. Inaccurate, imprecise. A muttered curse, a glance toward Camnion (positioned near the door in a guarding stance, eyeing Shade), further warming of the cheeks.

“You will improve with time, Detective,” Shade said, an attempt at reassurance. “As with any skill.”

“I guess,” he acquiesced. “I bet you didn’t need to train, huh?”

“I did not. This platform was already equipped with combat intelligence, and the shared experience of every geth in the galaxy.” It paused. “In a way, it took thousands of hours of combat to achieve my level of familiarity with firearms. If that is any consolation.”

Mai stared, then nodded minutely. “I guess it is.” He turned back to the target and took a deep breath, then emptied another clip into it. Same result as before, less the curse. Shade would count that as a win.

For several moments they continued to fire in silence, before Shade spoke up again. “I do believe, however, that skill is better gained through experience,” it said, lowering its gun. It had finally reached its boredom peak with the thoughtless, repetitive task. It ran a quick search. “There is a combat simulator on the Silversun Strip on Kithoi Ward. I believe that would be a better use of our time.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that, yet,” Mai said, a little uneasily. He turned to Shade with a frown. “You don’t think this is helping?”

“Not as much as learning under fire would.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Camnion cut in after a pause, as if reluctant to agree with Shade. “I have a membership. We could head that way when we have the time.”

Mai didn’t look convinced. “I... Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“I can teach you how to cloak, if that would help your nerves,” Shade suggested. It was a common enough tactic. “In case things get intense in the arena and you need to get away.”

“I thought you looked like a Hunter,” Camnion said. “Aren’t you a little big, though?”

“This is an old platform, before the size of the GMIU line was decreased for improved stealth,” it said. “I prefer the heavier armor and intimidation factor this one provides.”

“Ah.” It didn’t sound like he liked that answer.

“How could you teach me to cloak?” Mai asked.

Shade paused. “It’s less ‘teaching’ and more installing a tactical cloaking module on your omni-tool. Most of the time it would function as a normal full-body shield, which you currently lack, and when activated provide a cloak that make you nearly invisible.”

Mai nodded approval. “That would be cool.”

“You’re gonna let the geth mess around with your omni-tool?” Camnion interrupted.

“Camnion, please-” Mai began, but Shade cut him off.

“I am already, as the humans say, ‘sick and tired’ of you and your comments, Officer Camnion,” it said. “And of the way you speak as though I cannot hear you. If you have any concerns, you can take them up with me, personally, or with Detective Mai, privately. I understand that you are not this way out of maliciousness toward me but instead as a result of a narrow world-view and stubborn adherence to the past, but that is not an excuse for your childish behavior.”

Camnion stared silently, then retreated in silence. Whether he was admitting he was wrong or choosing to pick this battle up at a later date, Shade didn’t know.

“I will request a module be delivered to the Investigations office,” it said to Mai, though still pinning Camnion with a look. “If you have no further use for me, I will see you tomorrow, Detective.”

“I- Okay,” Mai said, and Shade left the range.


	8. War Stories

After Shade left, Haven looked to Camnion warily, half expecting the turian to immediately round on him to express his complaints. Instead, Camnion said nothing, tense in the shoulders and looking from the door, to Haven, then to the floor. Haven wasn’t sure what that  _ meant,  _ but he decided that if Camnion wasn’t going to explain himself, Haven wasn’t going to expend the energy trying to piece it together.

Over an hour passed, the range filled with the sound of gunshots and Haven’s quiet noises of frustration and occasional pain. His arms ached something fierce and his ears were beginning to hurt from the volume - he wondered why he hadn’t elected to wear earplugs.

As such, he almost didn’t notice Camnion speak, albeit unintelligibly, and he stopped shooting.

“What?”

Camnion frowned like he was loathe to repeat himself. “I said I’m sorry,” he said, and Haven’s eyebrows shot up. “For doubting your judgement, and for my behavior both with it and with regard to Nozu.”

Haven just kind of... blinked at him, for a moment, unsure what to say. “It’s okay,” he settled on, lamely, but Camnion shook his head.

“No, it’s not,” he said, tone becoming heated. “You were right, and I was out of line.”

“You were,” Haven admitted. “But I accept your apology. Let’s try not to let it happen again.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Detective.”

Haven waved him off. “We’re stuck together. I don’t want to be fighting all the time.”

Camnion nodded, and Haven got back to shooting once more. He would have to stop soon, on account of his arms, but part of him didn’t want to. The act was therapeutic, in a way, in its repetitiveness and the sturdy, full body feeling of each shot.

It was a matter of moments before Camnion spoke up again. “I, ah, do you want any help?” he asked. “This is making me sad.”

The memory of Camnion’s arms around him rose unbidden to the front of his mind. He didn’t let it show, though he did have to resist the urge to pout. “I’m doing my best,” he said. “But fine.” He got back into position

Haven was ready for his steadying embrace this time, but still felt goosebumps run up his arms when he felt gloved talons on his wrists. His breath shuddered out of him all at once. Even through his black and blue armor, Camnion was warm. Maybe that was just his shield generator, though.

“Alright, now, you have to focus,” Camnion rumbled, too close to Haven’s ear. “Focus on where the pistol is, and on keeping it there. Don’t think about firing, that’s not the important part, right now. If you can’t shoot straight while standing still, you have no chance on a moving target.”

“A-alright.” Haven nodded. He took a deep breath, fighting to keep it smooth. Christ, those subharmonics. There was definitely something about Camnion's voice that he was into, frustrating as the turian was.

“Now, try again,” Camnion said, tightening his grip on Haven’s quivering wrists. The human pulled in another deep breath before finally squeezing the trigger.

This one wasn’t the resounding success of the first, but went through where the collarbone would be. He tried again, emptied the clip, pausing to inhale between each shot. Only one missed, slipping between neck and shoulder.

“See,” Camnion said, releasing him and stepping back. He looked around as if expecting Natalie to come out of the shadows and laugh at him once more. Of course, she was nowhere to be found. “Not impossible,” he finished once he was certain they were alone. He smiled and Haven nearly dropped the thermal clip as he reloaded. “Go again.”

\--

When Camnion finally took him home that evening, Haven was exhausted from spending all day on his feet, then spending the rest of the afternoon and a great deal of the evening helping Natalie and a very helpful Shade brainstorm meanings for the number of wounds on the Keniston body, the morning’s bombing forgotten. They still had no other lead on Zrek and A’nao, and they couldn’t connect the number to anything - it seemed Haven had been right to assume it was meaningless. Needless to say, frustrated and dead tired, he fell asleep in the skycar.

The sound of an opening door woke him with a jolt, and then he fell. He landed on his behind, hard, hitting the back of his head on the unforgiving ground. He winced, hissed in a pained breath. He opened his eyes to find the world was blurry, but he was fairly certain that he was in his apartment building. There was a figure standing over him, blue and black and brown-

"Camnion?" He squinted, and where did his glasses go?

“Sorry,” Camnion said, and Haven frowned. Had Camnion been  _ carrying  _ him?

"Did you carry me up here?" He glanced around at the floor and- ah, there, his glasses. They must have fallen off when-

“Yeah,” he admitted. When Camnion  _ dropped  _ him. “I- You were sleeping.”

Haven rubbed at one eye groggily, then slipped his glasses on. "You could've woken me up," he said. "My legs are perfectly functional, you know." He stood up as if to prove it, rubbing at the growing ache in the back of his head.

Camnion frowned. "I'm aware. You- It was simpler to just- to bring you up here."

"Was it?" Haven asked, looking up at Camnion with a brow raised, something like a laugh bubbling in the back of his throat.

"I didn't want to wake you up. It's not that important, Detective," Camnion said.

"Well, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Officer," Haven replied, yawning and stretching his arms over his head. He turned to walk further into the apartment, ignoring the way his head and behind throbbed a little at the movement. "Hey, my quarian friend brought over some dextro-something or other the other day, I couldn't tell what it was beyond it being alcoholic and making my stomach upset. I can't drink it, obviously. You don't need to leave just yet - stay, have a bottle." He’d guessed Soro had left the blue drink for the next time he came over, but he probably wouldn’t mind if Haven shared. After a moment, the turian nodded, stepping inside so the door could hiss shut behind him. He took a seat while Haven fished a pair of bottles out of the refrigerator, perched on the edge like a bird on the precipice of taking flight.

"What  _ is  _ this?" Camnion asked absently as he hooked a talon under the lid to pry it up and off easily. He sniffed at it, which was not  _ cute.  _ Endearing, maybe.

Haven shrugged, shaking off the thought. "Like I said, no idea. I guess it's quarian. I just know it almost made me sick."

"Why'd you drink it if you knew it was dextro?" he asked, tipping his head back to take a swig. It must have been weirdly difficult to drink without being able to seal the lid with your lips, Haven realized. Turians must have figured it out, though, because Camnion tilted back forward with a satisfied noise.

"I dunno, thought it'd be interesting." He shrugged. "I'd already had a couple normal- I mean, levo ones, I can't really be held responsible." Camnion pulled a face, turning the bottle to look at the label more closely. "How is it?"

"It's okay," he said. "Tastes weirdly... pure. Medical, almost."

"It'd probably have to be, for quarians," Haven said, and Camnion nodded, offhandedly.  Haven twisted the cap off his levo beer and took a sip. He didn't grimace, but came close - he had never really liked beer all that much. He liked the buzz of alcohol, though, so he had learned to ignore that it tasted like piss. "Soro had it hooked up to his suit from a straw. He tried to convince me it didn't look ridiculous, but it really did."

Camnion snorted. "This is that friend you met on the ship here? What was a quarian doing on Earth?"

"Yeah," Haven said. "His ship had crash landed during the Battle for Earth and he hadn't been able to afford a ship back, after he recovered, until then."

"So he was on Earth for five years?"

Haven nodded. "There's a lot of people still there. Not sure if it's because they want to be or because they can't leave, for whatever reason."

The turian snorted again, more dismissive than amused. "I got off as soon as I could." He sipped his beer, threw an arm over the back of the chair, angling to face Haven better. Haven resisted the urge to sit up straighter.

"You were on Earth?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He remembered when Camnion had snapped at Natalie about it. Camnion nodded.

"I was still on my mandatory military service." A bitter tone had taken his voice. "I got shipped off Palaven and went to Earth. That same day, my hometown was destroyed by the Reapers. I guess I got out just in time."

Haven cringed. "I'm sorry."

Camnion waved it off. "It's been a while. I don't want to talk about it." He took a long draw from his bottle, emptying it. When Haven gestured toward the fridge for another, he nodded. Haven grabbed it for him.

"Is your family-?"

"All dead." And there was a dark look in his eyes, somber and turned low, glaring into the middle distance. "Lost my brother in that failed Citadel coup during the War, lost my sister on Earth, and lost everyone else on Palaven. I lost my entire squad except my Captain, who ran away halfway through the battle, the coward." He huffed out a cynical breath. "I don't know what happened to him."

Haven wanted to say something, but it felt like- like there was nothing to say. That weight of nearly everyone you've ever known, dying in rapid succession... it was horrifying. For all that Haven wasn't close to his family, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like if they were all gone like that, so suddenly.

"I'm sorry, Camnion," he said, quietly. The turian grunted and swallowed half of his new beer in one gulp. Haven took a long sip of his own. "I didn't know..."

"You weren't supposed to," Camnion said. It sounded like the end of the conversation, but he didn't stop. He spoke like he couldn't stand the silence for another second. "Anyway, I got off Earth the moment the Citadel got moved. I was doing security on one of the science ships that was working on it. I got here, and when C-Sec got back in order I immediately went to Councilor Quentius and requested I be inducted. The rest is a story, as you humans say." He sipped his beer. To Haven, he looked every bit the world-weary young war veteran he now knew he was. When the Reapers had touched down back home, Haven had been young - just turned 21. He remembered hiding in a bunker with his family for weeks, crowded and stuffy, the smell of sweat and tears and blood, and everyone around him finding ways to blame aliens, people like Camnion who were doing  _ anything  _ and losing  _ everything  _ to help, for the War in the first place. He felt sick, all of a sudden. He didn’t like to remember.

"Thank you," Haven said, quietly. Camnion looked at him questioningly, and he went on. "For coming to Earth. I know- I know you had to, it was mandatory, but-" He swallowed. "I- I can't even imagine how terrible it would have been if you all hadn't helped. So thank you."

Camnion was silent. For a long time, they both were, sipping at their drinks. Haven grabbed himself another.

"Where I'm from, on Earth, they blame ‘the aliens’ for the War," he said carefully, looking at his beer and decidedly not at Camnion. "They blame aliens for everything. Anything that happens to humanity, they blame on aliens if it's bad. They used to put it on Cerberus if it was good, but, well. You saw what happened to them."

"Was your family like that?" Camnion asked. Haven wondered if he was genuinely curious or trying to be polite.

"Yeah," he said on a wry laugh. "They- they hate space, and everything in it. When I got recruited for this job, they thought it was a no-brainer that I refuse." He sighed. "I guess they never really knew me that well. We don't really talk anymore."

Camnion nodded slowly, understanding. Took a sip. He finished his drink, but when Haven offered him another, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," the turian said subduedly.

Haven waved it off. "It's fine. I don't want to talk to them anyway. My sister keeps sending me messages trying to guilt me into coming back. I can't even imagine ever leaving." He laughed quietly. "I can hardly believe it - I've already grown attached. It's only been a couple weeks."

Camnion's browplates shifted. Mandibles twitched. "To what?"

"Huh?"

The turian didn't look like he wanted to repeat himself, but did anyway. "I mean- What've you grown attached to?"

"The Citadel," he said simply, a small smile on the corners of his lips. "The job. The people." He'd looked down at his bottle again, still mostly full. He couldn't bring himself to drink it. He peered up at Camnion at the last part, and found Camnion staring at him. He couldn't identify the expression.

Haven didn't know if it was wishful thinking or something else, but if he didn't know better, Camnion looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time. There was a strange wonder in that expression that made Haven want to both revel in it and hide away.

Camnion looked away first. "I've meant to go back to Palaven since the relays went up." His voice was low, subharmonics thrumming through Haven’s bones. God, but he’d be damned if those didn't do something to him. "But that was a year ago. At first I thought it was because there's nothing for me to go back to, but I guess I got attached, too. I understand how you feel."

Haven wondered if Camnion was doing this on purpose, playing him so easily. He locked eyes with Haven, and for a moment Haven could feel the electricity in the air, making his hair raise like it had on Tayseri Ward. The turian clinked his talons on his empty bottle, quietly, Haven’s eyes on him all the while.

Camnion left soon after, the conversation lulling to a near-complete standstill. Haven wondered, while he laid down to continue his nap, whether their conversation meant anything, or could have gone anywhere further.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of the otherworldly screech of Reapers and green eyes, fierce but empty.


	9. The Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I meant to link this on the last chapter, but click [here](http://8tracks.com/prettyworkboys/impetus) to check out my IMPETUS playlist on 8tracks!

"Why do we always find the bodies a day and a half late?"   

Natalie shrugged. "Bad luck?" 

With his nose shoved in the crook of his elbow, Haven nodded agreement. It seemed he’d never get used to that smell, sickening and wretched. 

"Victim, identified as Andrew Hallister, died about 30 hours ago," droned a human Enforcement officer. "Died from blood loss. No signs of struggle, no traces of the killer. Murder weapon was a kitchen knife from the victim's own kitchen." She pointed toward the kitchen, behind Haven. “We were gonna handle it until we found out it was probably part of your case.”

“If you can even call it that,” Haven muttered, perhaps darkly, then mustered a polite half smile. “Thanks. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

She paused, then shook her head. “No, sir. We’ll get out of your way.”  

"Thank you for your assistance, Officer Jean," said Shade from behind Haven. The officer gave it a puzzled grin and a grateful nod before leaving. 

Haven spent a half-hour searching the apartment with Shade and Natalie’s help. Camnion had elected to wait outside at the skycar. He and Haven hadn’t spoken beyond niceties since their talk in Haven’s appartment, now two nights ago. Haven didn’t know why - he thought something had...  _ happened  _ between them. That they’d come to an understanding of each other, or made a connection, but now whenever they were together (especially alone) Camnion was wordless, like he was lost in thought, constantly searching for the words. Part of Haven didn’t want to interrupt him, in case that was the case, but the rest felt like it had been on the precipice of anticipation for far longer than is comfortable. What could he do but talk to him?

On one wall in the large apartment, perpendicular to the wall-window, what seemed to be Hallister's pride and joy was on display; suits of armor, weapons of numerous shapes and sizes and makes all mounted with love and care behind glass, all gleaming and polished. Military? Mercenary? 

"What do you think all of this is for?" Haven asked, taking it all in. One suit of armor, made to mimick medieval earthen armor, caught his attention. A dragon was painted on its chest in what looked like blood. “This doesn’t look... ‘standard issue’ for a soldier or merc.” They were gaudy, flashy, and perhaps even of a sort to be  _ detrimental  _ in combat.

"Probably used the combat sim," Natalie answered. She was looking at the collection of submachine guns hungrily. "It's right across the way. I saw it before we came up. Do you think he had a will? Or can we, uh, aquisite these?" 

"That’s not a word, Natalie. You’re thinking of ‘aquire,’" he said. "And no, I don’t think we can just take them.”

“Can we, like, impound them?”

“I don’t think he has them illegally, so probably not.”

“Damn.”

Haven snorted. “Y’know, Camnion wanted to take me to the sim. Next part of my training." 

"He wanted to take you? I thought  _ I _ was in charge of your training."

"You've been busy." He shrugged. 

"Has the training been going well?" She sounded wary, almost. "You two don't exactly get on." 

He almost didn't want to answer her. She was right - they didn't get on, or at least, it hadn’t. Now, things were more... complicated.  "It's been going pretty great, actually," he replied at length, watching his tone. "I like training with him." 

Natalie nodded, and he pretended not to notice the sly, warm look she shot him.

They’d gotten the results from Dr. Huddy’s lab a day ago -  _ seven thousand and one  _ wounds covered the body of the woman they’d identified as Kagami Preston, who’d lived alone and unemployed on Zakera ward for nearly a year before being evicted a couple months ago. She must have been living on Tayseri since then. It was peculiar - according to her records, she wasn’t military, paramilitary, mercenary, security, and never had been; why did she have an assault rifle.

Why so many more wounds than Keniston’s four thousand? Preston had been physically smaller than Keniston, and more wounds seemed counter-productive. Why such a secluded and low-level target? Any leads they may have had were thrown out the window, what with Preston’s lack of ties to Keniston, the Blue Suns, or Omega’s legends.

Mr. Hallister was in the bedroom upstairs, in the same state as Keniston and Preston had been - mangled and unrecognizeable, positively soaked in blood and lying in a pool of himself. Haven didn’t bother spending a lot of time trying to discern anything from the ruined thing, and let the Kithoi Enforcement officers take it. Natalie instructed them to take it to Dr. Huddy’s lab. Haven couldn’t be sure without Dr. Huddy’s analysis, but he imagined that maybe Hallister had less wounds than Preston, so there wasn’t a gradual escalation.

The murder weapon was laid out as if on display, like the others - a kitchen knife similar to Keniston’s laid atop the dresser conspicuously, glinting.

“Do you think it’s like a taunt?” Natalie surmised, looking at it whilst carefully setting it in a kinetic barrier case. “Like, ‘I know you want this, and I know you won’t be able to use it to catch me, so have it.’”

Haven shrugged, leaving the bedroom. The smell of blood was marginally weaker outside of the bedroom, and he breathed carefully. “I guess so. It’s a confident move, and they’ve the power and skill to back it up.”

As he descended the stairs into the main level, the gleaming neon lights from outside the full-wall window outshone the fluorescent lighting of the apartment, throwing parts of the room into bright colors without the harsh contrast they might have without the white light. They were in Tiberius Towers, several stories up from the famous Silversun Strip, which Haven  _ could _ see if he looked out the wall-window and down, but he was fine, thanks. When he and Natalie got in the elevator, apparently finished with their assessment of the scene, he was grateful. 

"Scared of heights,  _ Detective?" _ Natalie asked with a grin, spinning the barrier box by opposite corners with her fingertips in a way that Haven was fairly sure wasn’t safe. "I saw you avoiding the window."   

"Shut up,  _ Officer." _

"Officer Duran is correct, Detective," Shade said with a suddenness that was never  _ not  _ jarring. "Whenever you would get within a couple meters of the glass, your pulse would heighten and your hands would begin to perspirate-"   

Haven ignored it, face red.  

Natalie was still laughing at him when the doors outside opened. Camnion's eyes widened in question and he kicked off where he was leaning against the skycar. 

"The Detective is a sissy," Natalie said by way of an explanation. Camnion looked to Haven for some sort of confirmation, but the human just frowned. 

"Let's go," he said, walking ahead of the three of them. 

"Detective, the combat sim is just across the way," Camnion said, pointing to the building, which read 'ARMAX ARSENAL ARENA' in large gold letters. "We said we would go this weekend and here we are."

"Sounds fun!" Natalie said, looking to Haven. "You still queasy from the crime scene?" 

"Shut up, fine, we can go," he said, and Natalie fist pumped. Shade looked at her with a whir of mechanical processes. "But first, let's eat. I'm starving."

\--

Half of the restaurants were still in shambles, with construction crews and mechs gathering shattered glass and bent, burnt metal. There were a couple standing though, proud and bright and novel, with rainbow neon signs and lines out the door. Like always, Camnion knew the most about the restaurants and made a beeline. Haven, Shade, and Natalie trailed behind him like ducklings. 

The line was relatively short, but they still waited a good twenty-five minutes before they got in, chatting idly. Inside, the food was as good as Camnion promised. It was obviously catering to a more alien audience, with little to no options Haven found familiar, but Natalie immediately found some strange dish "from the Tuchankan desert" that she'd apparently heard was good from a classmate of hers from the Academy, so both she and Haven decided to try it out. Neither of them could pronounce it, but it was actually pretty tasty. Shade earned a good many uncomfortable, distrustful, or just strange looks from passers-by but seemed unaffected, participating in conversation with the others. It even managed to startle a laugh out of their waitress.

Haven cleared his throat in the silence of a pause in conversation. “All the victims so far have been human.”

Natalie groaned around a mouthful of food. “Haven, it’s the  _ weekend.  _ Can’t we analyze this tomorrow?”

“Yes, but we can also talk about it now,” Haven insisted. “Don’t you think that means something? There aren’t that many of us on the Citadel - I don’t think it’s a  _ coincidence.  _ Especially with three people dead, now.”

She shrugged. “I mean, I guess? But the victims don’t have any other connections aside from species.”

“Maybe that makes the species connection all the more relevant,” Camnion suggested. “If it’s the only thing they share. Maybe the killer hates humans.”

“They all had firearms,” Shade said, sat motionless at the empty place setting between Haven and Camnion. “Perhaps that could be relevant?”

“Hallister had weapons?” Camnion asked.

Natalie nodded. “Yeah. He had this huge case of armor and guns - must’ve used the sim, I think.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Haven admitted. “Maybe the firearms are connected to each other, or someone else. I’m willing to try anything, at this point.” He shook his head, a feeling like frustration and worry throbbing behind his temples. “We only found Preston three days ago, and Keniston five days before that.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Camnion said. “That’s awfully close.”

“You think there’s gonna be another one soon?” Natalie asked, concern furrowing her brow, and Haven shrugged.

“I hate to say it, but-”

The whole table (along with half the restaurant) were pulled from their conversations to look over when they heard a loud, booming laugh from the bar. There was a krogan there in purple armor, an arm around an asari who was laughing too, though much more quietly. Haven wondered what was so funny, really, that it warranted a laugh that disturbed the whole restaurant. 

"Well, I guess we're done here," the krogan said. "Wanna get back to the sim, Siri?" 

The asari nodded, and Haven had never seen one who was such a deep, ink-dark blue. "Of course," she said, and the pair of them left. 

"Haven, you're staring," Natalie said, poking his side, and Haven spun around.

“Did you see them?”

Camnion frowned. “Everyone did.”

Haven glanced back over his shoulder, but the pair had disappeared. “Do they fit the Zrek and A’nao description?”

He looked back in time to see Natalie roll her eyes. “Haven, you don’t think-”

“The description is simply asari and krogan, Detective Mai,” Shade said. “Many asari seek krogan partners for their longevity, due to their similar lifespans. Such pairs are uncommon, however, due to the krogan’s reputation, but not unheard of.”

“But- we’re on Silversun and-”

“I’m still not convinced Syllius wasn’t telling us a ‘fairy tale,’ as Duran put it,” Camnion interrupted. “Besides, the Zrek and A’nao story is only connected to Keniston. It could have no bearing on the rest of the case.”

Haven didn’t have a reply for that - Camnion and Natalie were right, probably, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they  _ weren’t. _

\--

The crowd inside the Armax Arsenal Arena was dense and loud, overwhelming. Haven wanted to grab hold of someone's hand, a childish impulse to keep himself from getting lost in the crowd, but refrained. He stayed close behind Camnion's back as the turian pushed his way through the crowd, C-Sec armor granting him just enough authority and intimidation factor. On vidscreens mounted up high, Haven could see what was going on in the sim from every angle he could imagine - a violet-plated krogan biotic charging a Cerberus Centurion, an asari with the darkest blue skin Haven had ever seen pulling Guardians up into a singularity, her barrier glinting over the silver markings that laced her brow and forehead, under her eyes, and down her chin. Something about them made her look like a queen, regal and powerful. 

_ "Kill streak! Three, four, five!" _

Camnion shoved past the last few people to get to the glass viewing area, directly above the sim itself. He leaned up against the rail to look down, and Haven followed his example. A couple patrons grumbled or even protested, but no one tried anything. 

"We're gonna have to wait for them to finish," Camnion shouted over the commotion while the VI called out  _ "Maximum kill streak!"  _ to raucous cheers. 

Haven nodded, then turned his back to the spectacle to look around. Off to one wall he saw a VI terminal, a female turian glowing orange and pink and transparent. His mind was still on the cases, despite the ample distraction around him, and he thought that he could at least make sure Hallister really did use the sim, just in case. And- and Haven remembered, unbidden, that Syllius had said Keniston had been on Kithoi Ward the night he’d died. Had he been here? Used the sim? A weak connection was better than nothing, and- and maybe that could be why Preston had had the rifle.

"I'm gonna go use the VI," he said, unsure if Camnion could hear him. He weaved his way back through the crowd.

He stopped in front of it, unsure how to- Did he say hello? Was there VI etiquette? How did he-

"Hello, Detective Haven Mai, guest of Officer Laius Camnion. Welcome to the Armax Arsenal Arena.” He imagined it was smiling - it was hard to tell its expression with a semi-transparent head. “How may I be of assistance, Detective Mai?" 

"I have a couple questions about some users, here."  he said, trying not to feel strange for interrogating a VI.

"Most information is classified, Detective. Unless you have a membership or a warrant, I can only tell you what is publicly available." 

Haven nodded. He could work with that, for now. “Can I just- Alright. Is there a user here with the name Andrew Hallister?" 

The VI nodded. "Mr. Andrew Hallister is a respected user of the Armax Arsenal Arena. His high score is: private." 

"Why is it private?" 

"Any user can set their scores to private at any time," it said. "Our records show that Andrew Hallister is deceased. If his settings were public before, they were automatically set to private upon his death." 

"Alright. How could I access his score, if I wanted to?" 

"A C-Sec warrant would allow access," it said, helpfully. "Do you require anything more?" 

"Yes, I have more names," he said. "Is there any user with the name Terrance Keniston?" 

It nodded again. "Terrance Keniston is a respected user of the Armax Arsenal Arena. His high score is: private." 

"How about a Kagami Preston?" 

"Kagami Preston is a respected user of the Armax Arsenal Arena. Her high score is: private." 

_ "And the match goes to Vugira!" _

Haven jumped at the loud announcement, turning around. Camnion was motioning for him to come on, while the vidscreens showed the krogan and asari duo embracing. He gestured for Camnion to wait. 

"Who are they?" he asked the VI, pointing at the vidscreen. 

"Ravanor Vugira is a respected user of the Armax Arsenal Arena. Her high score is: Nine-thousand, six hundred and ninety-four. Her companion is Esirya Thaanis, a guest. Her high score is: private." 

Haven nodded. "Thank you. I'm finished." 

"Please enjoy your day at the Armax Arsenal Arena," it said, then fell silent. Haven went to follow Camnion and Natalie into the locker room. Shade was staying above - only three were allowed at a time into the sim, and it was willing to wait. 

Down the stairs, Vugira and Thaanis were leaving the elevator. They were definitely the same couple from the restaurant bar. Haven noticed their armor - Vugira, the krogan, was wearing armor the same bright violet of her plates. Thaanis hadn’t been wearing any before, but now was wearing yellow and black, a symbol like a sun emblazoned on her front. He recognized it, vaguely, but couldn’t place it.

Natalie seemed to notice it too, but  _ she  _ knew what it was, and approached the asari with her Tempest. "Excuse me, but I'm gonna have to take you in." She was in full Enforcement mode, something Haven didn't see often. 

"Excuse me?" Thaanis sounded bemused, smirking. Haven's first impression of 'queen' was reinforced. 

"We don't tolerate gang activity on the Citadel." Natalie gestured with her SMG at Thaanis's armor. "Eclipse armor. I have to take you in." Camnion didn't intervene - he'd already moved past to change into his own armor. He was already in his C-Sec issued suit, but he seemed to have conjured another set in deep green, perhaps kept in storage here. He was stripping into his undersuit, and Haven was half watching Natalie and half watching the turian's hipbones. The jut was much more severe without the armor on. 

"It's a keepsake," Thaanis said. "I'm not part of Eclipse anymore, human." She said 'human' like a curse, like something foul she'd peeled from her boot. Haven recalled her viciousness in the sim, fighting human enemies. A grudge against Cerberus, or something more? 

"I have to take you in, ma'am," Natalie repeated once more. "It's my job." She made to grab the asari's arm, but she deftly dodged, laughing condescendingly and glowing faintly purple. 

"I'd like to see you try." 

With that, she took the stairs gracefully, quickly, with a laughing Vugira on her arm. Natalie went to follow her, but lost her in the crowd, returning to Haven and Camnion with a curse. 

Haven rented a suit of armor from the VI, as well as an undersuit. Camnion was fastening the clasps on his greaves, and Natalie was bouncing from foot to foot - she wasn't changing, content with her C-Sec armor,, and was itching to get into the sim. Seeing Camnion in his undersuit was...  _ interesting _ . Though the suit's material was fairly thick, the pull and stretch over plates, where they started and ended and bent and arched, were clearly distinguishable without the protective metal. Haven noticed the strange prongs on his calves, and the two toes of his feet, and the strange boniness of his carapace more distinctly than he had before. Some part of him that sounded like Sanctuary said he should be disgusted, or at the very least weirded out, but in all honesty he felt a stirring of attraction in the pit of his gut at the sight. And- well, that wasn’t  _ new,  _ he had to admit, but it was startling in its strength. He wondered, absently, exactly what Camnion’s plates felt like, textured and hard and  _ alien.  _ He tried not to stare, but equal parts curiosity and attraction made it kind of hard.

He noticed Camnion's eyes sticking to him when he was pulling on his undersuit and wondered if that was only curiosity.

_ \-- _

_ "It's combat night in the Armax Arsenal Arena!" _

The armor was heavy but strangely fluid, and Haven felt his heart pounding already as he stepped out into the simulated terrain. Camnion had chosen all the settings while Natalie was confronting Thaanis, so Haven hadn't had any idea what he was in for. Frankly, he still didn't. But as he pulled out his Predator, which felt more and more natural in his hands every day, he steeled himself with a deep breath and a tightening of his jaw. He could do this. 

As the voice counted down to the start of the match, he wasn't so sure. 

"Get in cover!" Camnion instructed over the comm reverberating through his helmet, and Haven did so, ducking behind a waist-high wall the way he saw Camnion and Natalie doing, his heart in his ears. 

"G-got it," he said, and he heard Natalie sigh. He looked around but couldn't see either of them anymore, like they’d blended into the map. 

"You'll be fine," Natalie said, soothingly but with an edge like she was tense. The sound of gunfire filled the air as geth spawned - a probably smart choice for Haven, with his tech-based abilities, though he couldn't help but think of Shade. 

"C'mon, Detective!" Camnion said. "You can't just hide behind cover the whole time." 

Haven wanted to argue, but Natalie shouted about low shields right after, and he swallowed his fear. He topped over his cover, targeted a random geth, and triggered his overload. It froze for a moment in a starburst of blue. Someone took aim and it dropped, then dissolved. Natalie whooped, but Haven was too nervous to be excited, as yet. He activated the drone kit attached to his omni-tool (and he was glad he’d taken to keeping one on him, since the Blue Suns incident) and took a deep breath, then raised his Predator. He exhaled and took the shot once, twice, three times into a simulated geth trooper and it jolted before collapsing. He didn't have time to revel in his victory, however, because he felt a painful pulsing feeling all over as his shields were battered with answering fire. He overloaded another geth, this one glowing with its own shields, and ducked behind cover. 

"Nice job!" Natalie said, encouragingly. She was out of breath from effort. "Keep it up!" 

They managed to rack up a kill streak of six, with Haven contributing only one, by the time the round ended. Natalie sprinted for the bonus and barely got it when the enemy spawn indicator appeared right above her. Haven and Camnion moved in tandem to new cover.

"Shit," she muttered over the comm, elbowing the first geth to spawn in the photoreceptor. It mewled, strange and low and bitty as it stumbled back, and Natalie took the opening to take it down with her submachine gun. When it disappeared she quickly rolled behind cover, and switched to her shotgun. "Camnion's getting it next time - that was close." 

"Fine with me," Haven said, voice shaking but trying to be normal. Natalie chuckled. 

"Whatever, next time pay attention," Camnion interjected. Haven could see him from his new cover, and watched as he fiddled with something on his Avenger until it glowed blue. 

"Don't tell me what to do," Natalie said, over  the VI announcing  _ "Kill streak!" _

Haven was distracted, watching Camnion and dredging up the courage to top over his cover again, when he was hit. Like, physically. He  jumped up, searching for his attacker and he was hit again - and  _ there,  _ he saw the telltale shimmer of a tactical cloak. A geth hunter. He overloaded it, and it materialised, stumbling back like the one Natalie had hit, but it regained its footing much more quickly, aiming its shotgun. Haven backed up, drawing up his pistol to shoot when the shotgun blast got him in the stomach, doubling him over. His combat drone sent out a pulse, and the weakened geth froze in place for a second. Haven fell to his knees, trying to start breathing again, and he did, but at double time. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

"Shit, guys-" he wheezed, and the next thing he knew there was a loud bang and the geth's head exploded, body jolting and sparking as it fell. Haven breathed for a moment, gathering himself, before looking around for who'd saved him. Camnion was looking at him. 

"You alright?" Camnion asked, surprisingly gentle, and Haven nodded. Camnion widened his mandibles and exposed needle-like teeth in a grin. “Pay better attention next time, Mai.” Haven flushed, though whether it was exertion or something else was beyond him. 

When the round ended, it was Camnion's turn to chase after the 200 point bonus. He barely got it in time as it was clear across the map, and his labored breathing could be heard over the comms. 

"Having difficulties, Officer?" Natalie said, snickering.  Camnion glared at her. 

"Next one, we race," he said, and he sounded almost playful, a challenge in his voice. 

Haven could hear Natalie's smile. "You're on." 

The next round, Haven was more proactive - he was more used to the armor, now, and his own weight under it. He triggered his drone first thing, and immediately ducked into cover when he saw a rocket headed his way. He noticed a geth hunter out of the corner of his eye, approaching Natalie, and overloaded it from across the map. Natalie gave him a harried "Oh! Thanks," before bashing it in the chest with her SMG twice, pushing it back so she could shoot it more effectively. 

Camnion took care of himself, and Haven could tell he was experienced, at least here in the sim. He knew exactly how to rack up a kill streak, and with a little coordination with Natalie, got as high as 8. He didn't talk to Haven much beyond the occasional order to stop hiding, which by this third round he didn't even need to do. 

"Your drone's down," Natalie said. "Just, ah- Thought you should know." 

Haven nodded, but she couldn't see him. He pulled it up, then went to take a shot at a hunter while his powers reloaded, but his gun just clicked uselessly. He crouched behind cover to reload, but discovered - he was out of thermal clips. He topped over cover again, overloading at random while he looked around to find- there, by Natalie. An ammo crate. He didn't want to get closer, and nearly decided to only overload for the rest of the match, but then he remembered his cloak. Shade had only just installed it for him the day before - he hadn’t had the chance to really mess around with it, but- well. Now was as good a time as any.

"Cloaking," he said, "I'm not a hunter, try not to shoot me. I'm out of thermal clips." 

"Careful," Camnion said, and Haven nodded again (which he really needed to stop doing) before making the gesture and stepping out of cover. 

Shade had said it would last ten seconds, and he counted to ten under his breath, slowly. He nimbly navigated the battlefield as quickly as he could, sidestepping most of the gunfire. Standing up and moving around gave him a better chance to see his surroundings - extremely bright, especially on the one wall where the "sun" was blinding. They seemed to be on a ship of some sort. Everything was tinted rusty-red. 

Nearer Natalie, he scooped up a couple clips and tucked them away, reloading his pistol right as his cloak timed out. First thing, he took out another cloaked hunter that Natalie kept glancing at while she tried to focus on another, closer to her. 

"Thanks, Haven." 

"No problem." 

He mourned that he could no longer watch Camnion from this position, but after only a minute or two, the match was over. The bonus spawned in the middle of the arena as a commercial message was read out, and both Camnion and Natalie sprinted toward it. 

"Aha!" Camnion shouted, holding his assault rifle in the air. "Got it!" 

"No you didn't, I did!" Natalie said, pushing him and laughing. "I was here way before you!" 

"Not true!" He wobbled, but regained his footing. He shoved her with his shoulder, but she didn’t budge. 

Haven got out from behind cover and walked toward them, unable to keep the smile off his face. He found the control on the side of his helmet, and the visor slipped away so he could see them more clearly. This had been a lot more fun than he'd anticipated. He wasn't very  _ good  _ yet, mind, but it had been exciting. He holstered his pistol and found his hands shaking from adrenaline. He approached the others as they walked out of the arena. 

"Have fun, Haven?" Natalie asked, slinging her arm over his shoulders with a clang of metal on metal, dragging him closer to her level to do so. He nodded. 

"Yeah, actually," he said, and his voice was shaking with excitement. "I don't- I didn't think it'd be that fun, but that was actually really cool." 

"I knew it was a good idea," Camnion said smugly. "Wanna go one more time?"

Haven nodded, reloading his Predator and stepping into the elevator.

\--

> _ <-ding now.> _

Shade couldn’t freeze, per se, as it was already standing motionless on its own in the crowd, fielding curious and fearful looks from its occupants, but it felt a jolt of dread. Not another intercepted transmission, not  _ now.  _ Mai and Camnion and Duran were in the sim below and it- it didn’t  _ like  _ watching them destroy hordes of simulated geth, but watching Mai progress to hiding behind cover like a child to actually being an aid to the team was interesting.

Only now, it couldn’t focus.

> _ <Oh, already? I thought it would be another hour.> _
> 
> _ <’Parently my name’s on a watchlist.> _
> 
> _ <Oh my God. How’d it fit?> _
> 
> _ <Shut up. I just escaped C-Sec. Had to pay the pilot double to get her to leave early.> _
> 
> _ <If I had to do that, you’d kill me for wasting credits.> _
> 
> _ <’Cause you’re not a  _ commander, _ Derricott. > _

It was the same pair as last time - Derricott and T’ersava. Shade considered sending them a message requesting that they change the frequency of their communication so it could stop eavesdropping. It didn’t do so, however.

> _ <Yeah, yeah. What’re you doing when you get back?> _
> 
> _ <Melane just said Sederis wants to see me personally. Like,  _ in the flesh. _ > _
> 
> _ <I’d shit my pants.> _
> 
> _ <Yeah, I’m fuckin’ terrified.> _

Sederis-  _ Jona  _ Sederis? Shade recognized the name - she was the founder and head of Eclipse.

> _ <Niavarae T’ersava, come out with you hands up!> _
> 
> _ <Fuck, Gero, I gotta go. I’ll call ya back when this shit’s over with.> _
> 
> _ <Bye, Commander.> _

“Bye, Commander.” A snort, a sound of warm laughter from somewhere behind Shade. “Dumbass.”

Impulsively, Shade turned around to identify the speaker. Gero Derricott was a human male, skin a touch darker than Mai’s with hair just as black, but cropped much shorter. He had a massive burn scar on his neck and the bottom of his face that made his smile look pained. He looked up at Shade when it turned to stare.

“The Hell are you?”

Shade was quiet for a time, and Derricott frowned, turning as if to leave.

“I am Officer Shade, of Bachjret Ward C-Sec, Investigations Division,” it said.

Derricott’s frown deepened. “You’re a cop?”

“Yes.”

“I guess that’s my sign to leave,” Derricott muttered, quiet enough to go unheard under the crowd. Shade heard him anyway.

It didn’t respond. Derricott grimaced and left toward the exit.

Should it stop them? They- both T’ersava and Derricott- were  _ Eclipse.  _ It knew that they were and had proof that they were, stored in its memory banks. They were criminals and it was C-Sec. Shouldn’t it do something?

But, Shade rationalized, its evidence was ill-gotten (if through unintentional means) and- and it hadn’t heard any word of Eclipse activity or any trouble they’d caused on the Citadel since the station had been moved back to its proper system.

It did nothing, and watched Derricott leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out my tumblr @altfire! I pretty much constantly liveblog my writing process and talk about ~behind the scenes~ stuff that you don't wanna miss.
> 
> Or maybe you do. I'm not your mom. I can't tell you what to do. But check out my blog.


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